


The Skywalker Twins (The first set)

by lasttoknow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, I did this instead of sleeping, I spent the summer writing this, Lol they dead, Skywalker twin AU, Slave Culture, Snapshots, The Clone Wars - Freeform, discussion of rape-no actual rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-07-23 08:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasttoknow/pseuds/lasttoknow
Summary: Anakin and Amelia Skywalker have been the joint Generals of the 501st clone battalion since the beginning. This is a snapshot fic from the point of view of the clones.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Working title; Appo meet and great
> 
> Jetti--Jedi

_CC-1119 /name/ Appo_

The life of a clone was one of monotonous repetition.  Drills, lessons and so many ration sticks that some brothers were ready to hurl. Apart from the brief times spent bonding there wasn’t much to look forward to.

Except Jedi lessons. Those were _amazing_. It largely composed of the Kaminoans leaving us to watch holos of the Jedi in action. Fighting, negotiating. Already we were picking their _Jetii_ that we wanted to serve under. It was strange because it was years of recordings in no particular order. At one point I could see a master in all their glory fighting armed assailants, and not two days later they’re a gangly padawan chasing after a robe blown away in the wind. Many clones had favourites of course. Some favoured the calm nature of master Plo Koon (or was it general) or the warrior spirit of Mace Windu.

However, there is nothing as popular to watch as the Skywalker twins. Anakin and Amelia Skywalker, joint padawans under master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Which in itself was strange for no other master had two padawans at once. However, it seemed the duo were inseparable, from themselves and from their master who they affectionately called Obi. Clearly the pair were troublemakers, and whilst most clones did not want to serve under them, they could admit that the pair were fun to watch. For example, seeing multiple recordings of them running away from an explosion screaming that it had been ‘a good idea at the time’ never truly got old. And then explaining why it had been a good idea to their master; who jumped out of windows. Their creators never checked what they were showing the clones, so it was also common to see almost every day snippets of Jedi’s lives. My personal favourite was when Anakin and Amelia (or Ani and Ami as they called themselves) were fast asleep on either side of general Kenobi, Kenobi himself fast asleep, early on in their training. General Kenobi didn’t even have a beard at this point and they all look so content. It was always hard to recognise sweet little children sleeping as those who would later decide it was a good idea to blow up a building full of explosives to stop the explosives from blowing up. Or at the age of nine have flown a ship through a battle droid station. There’s a long list that the we had for those who had to serve under them. Those poor brothers.

This pattern continued until one unsurprisingly rainy day, when Oz came running up to me. “I saw Jedi!” The excitement was barely contained, and I was fairly certain it was a joke. Yes we were made for Jedi, it was unlikely one is going to come to them more likely they would simply be sent to us.

“Stop fooling around, we’ve got 20 minutes to kill, how about we head to the mess hall?” Because ration sticks were going to make everything better. The entire mess abuzz over this supposes Jedi. Kano was going on and on about how this Jedi looked like Kenobi, but most just dismissed it. That is until a very excitable padawan practically fell from the sky to sit in an empty seat. I gawked. I was fairly certain others did also. It was one of the Skywalker twins. It actually was quite hard to tell them apart; they were damn near identical from their clothes to their hair.

The mess was silent. Every single clone was staring dumfounded at the Jedi. It was almost awkward until;

“I told you I saw a Jedi!” Oz yelled before looking at their amused face.

“And I told Obi-wan I saw a clone! Hi, I’m Amelia Skywalker.” A hand was thrust past me which Oz shook.

“Oz sir” It was the most surreal thing ever. She went to each clone shaking their hand in greeting.

“Appo sir” and I did not stutter. She had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Its nice to meet you all. My master is off talking to the, er, leaders? I wasn’t paying attention.” A smattering of laughter met this and conversation continued. I was largely just listening to the Jedi next to me rather than the chatter around.

An almighty crash was heard and Jango Fett and Bobba were running down a corridor firing backwards at Master Kenobi.

“And that would be the bounty-hunter we’re after. See you around!” Igniting her lightsabre, she leapt over a balcony and gave chase with her master.

Ringo glanced around at everyone in the mess. “Did that really just happen?”

A hundred identical voices started chattering. Two Jedi! Two!! One had even talked to them.

“Does that mean the war is coming?” Wollfe’s sombre tone dimmed the excitement in the room. Then it immediately picked back up. I was buzzing. I’d been built for this, we all had. Not even the arrival of the long necks could dampen the mood. In fact, the mood improved as Padawan Skywalker walked back in. I had to conclude that she looked like a drowned Tooka.

“Prime minister, you don’t happen to have a holo-terminal, or a ship I can use? My master broke his and _borrowed_ mine.” Lama Su escorted the young Jedi down the hall as they snickered. I was one of them. Especially when her voice echoed down the corridor, “I hate wet.”   

Meer hours later the call went out all men to battle stations. We are being shipped out and at long _long_ last fulfilling our purpose. Geonosis is about as far as you could get from Kamino; the sand was harsh and the heat near unbearable but we’ve been trained for this. We are prepared for this. The ride to Genosis is tense and punitive, many eyes flitted to our commander, yeah commander. With a permanent scowl on her face she was muttering in a language I didn’t know what although it didn’t sound kind to her vod.

 Blaster fire greeted us as we made our way down to the killing pit. Jettii were dying. Could they have waited for us; we were made for them but at least we could save a few.

Personally didn’t care much these other Jedi. Commander Skywalker (whom I decided was my commander) was scanning the crowd in search of an identical face. And I charged right in after her when she dived into the fight.

Two brothers got struck down right next to me scream and, gone. They’ve marched on; bat haar munit taabir ner vod. Did they even have names here? Dead in the dirt a shiny? Shuddering I kept firing, there’s time to grieve later this is the first battle and I will not be caught with my shebs down around my ankles. The plan is extraction so it’s quick. Provide cover fire for the Jedi generals. But instead of leaving the planet General Kenobi and both Commander Skywalkers (busy hugging each other and reassuring that the other is fine) are chasing a Count Doku. The civilian gets thrown from the transport along with 7567 and there is little more than time to hope that they don’t die in impact before we are chasing an honest force Sith! They were meant to be dead why is he not! There are meant to be any Sith…

…and he cut Commander Skywalker’s arm off. General Kenobi is fighting defensively against the Sith whilst my Commander Skywalker is defending her fallen brother myself and the other troopers quickly provide cover fire when we can without hitting General Kenobi. That would be bad. Thankfully high General Yoda swiftly arrives in time to aid the general.

Often I reflect on that first battle. A lot of things went horribly wrong. But even after a few months of fighting I have to admit I was glad I met Commander Skywalker. Even happier when she made me the Commander of the 501st because she’s my General.


	2. Rex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also will be posting my 'bus doodles' on my Tumblr page; lasttoknowanything.  
> Original working title, Rex dealing with their shit.

_Captain Rex, CT-7567, 501 st Clone Battalion_

Cold was a nasty deceitful thing. It seeped into every crack and fissure, stole every ounce of heat until a husk was left and was far crueller than heat as it took far longer to kill. I have served a grand total of half a mission with my new Generals yet I have firmly decided two things about them. One, they are clinically insane. Two, they only thing they are sensible is their blatant hate of the cold. My General is huddled under a blanket glaring at ice like it stabbed him whilst the other is ranting about how frozen water falling from the sky is unnatural and show be destroyed. I fully support this endeavour.

As does Downpour. Actually, that was one of the few sensible suggestions they had. A personal squad of clones to work with in battle led by myself and Commander Appo. Appo has Ringo, Oz and Coric whilst I have Kix, Jesse, Hardcase and Tup.  In theory it was efficient. Reality, (we’d not even finished this mission but I just know) states that we’ll need more troopers to deal with two Generals. In fairness, Commander 1045 (Doom I think is his name) is reporting similar problems with his two Generals.

Anyway, and far more importantly, the reason why we’re freezing our balls of is the Pantorans deciding they need a planet with no resources (but a few bases) and naturally needed three Jedi to sort it out. I mean _really_ , that’s just excessive. At least the Senator seems apologetic. But she’s wandering around in a lose shall with parts of her arms bare. And her face. If we did that we’d be as blue as her. Maybe that’s why she’s blue; too much exposure.

It is, harsh, entering a base with soldier’s helmets presented like trophies. Poor shinies didn’t even have the chance to paint them. Tup and Hardcase look a little green (or would if it wasn’t so damn cold) as helmets are carefully taken down. There’s no numbers, nothing to remember them by. Still, I partaylir bid gar are darasuum ner vod. I may not know your names but I will remember this sight. Chairman Cho was complaining but frankly non paid him any heed. He acted like we as disposable as the droids that our vod shared the same fate as. I hope he dies the prat.

 

 

When I said I wanted him to die I did not mean on the same planet as me where I could be held somewhat responsible for said death. The calyarnr had to ruin his death for me. I told him that we were only here to protect him against the Talz, prudent when they ambushed us, even with superior weapons we didn’t stand much of a chance. Troopers were dying , one of his guard went down. But we had to hold on since he would not hear of a retreat.

Well Chairman, these animals just killed your other guard. And a savage threw a spear into your back.

Speedily, I signalled for the rest to retreat and toss the Chairman onto a speeder. Even on speeders their mounts had us trapped. And they were smart. Chasing us to a false bridge that killed two of my men. Lady Fortune herself must have smiled down on us as the Generals appeared, and thankfully with reinforcements. Kix and Coric raced to our wounded.

“Good to see you sir” I yelled, trying to outmatch the racing winds in volume.

“You okay Rex?” His eyes flickered to my wounds.

Brushing it off I claimed it was just a scratch, no doubt Kix had heard me and would hunt me down later.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re in quite a mess sirs, eleven dead the rest wounded, including the Chairman.” This cued the Senator to confront the Chairman. I stood guard as they debated. The Talz had converged and were approaching.

And the Senator went to approach them.

“To die for ones’ people is a great sacrifice. To live for ones’ people, an even greater sacrifice. I choose to live for my people, what do you choose?” She’s not wrong. To die and live for your brothers is the hardest thing we can do the only thing we can do.  Brave of her, to face them alone bar the droid.

“We shall leave Orto Plutonia under the watchful eyes of the Talz, from this day forth, and recognise your sovereignty as a free and equal people.”

 

Oh thank little gods. We can leave now. I think I’m as blue as the damn ice.

Piling into the transport I allowed (was bullied) by Kix to have my arm be checked out. And to being buried by a shivering mess of vod. It was a heeluva lot warmer than that damn planet. Can we please go to a tropical planet next. Still, for a first stint, not terrible.

Surwearoe ciryc ba’hak.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I partaylir bid gar are darasuum ner vod I remember so you are eternal my, mine brother  
> calyarnr bastard  
> Surwearoe ciryc ba’hak shitty cold planet


	3. Ringo/ CT-9477. 501st Clone Battalion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original working chapter title Med pegleg

Slowly, I come to with what can only be described as a pitiful groan. My every movement sluggish, and my thoughts scattered, I am certainly not battle ready. However, I’m certainly not the battlefield right now. Or if I am, it’s the comfiest battlefield I have ever been on in my (admittedly) short life. Squinting reveals that I’m not wearing a helmet. And that is far too white to be a battlefield. I must have been taken to the Medbay. Tilting my head slightly left; and cu’agr it should not take more effort than it should; reveals Oz fast asleep at my side. He looks so sweet, all curled up like that. My last Batchmate.

“Oz?” Little more than a whisper, it still results in him jolting awake.

“Ringo!” Fingers skirt over my face and sides, before he turns to grab Coric.

“Heya doc, how many days off am I getting this time?” My jovial tone is met with a worrying silence.

“Come on, I’ve bounced back from worse than this,” but no one is looking me in the eye. Desperately, I cling to Oz’s fingers. “Oz?”

Shockingly, Oz burst into tears, and Coric looks not far off.

“I’m sorry, Ringo, but there was a landmine. We tried so hard to save it.”

_Moving through the swamps was a nightmare. Every movement was laboured. Each step torturous. “Come on Ringo, we’re lagging!”_

_Smirking I take dramatic strides to overtake him. Just as soon as I’ve moved past there’s the faintest click then-_

“My leg!” Struggling upright I see the reason why Oz is crying. There’s a stump. No, no please.

“Coric? Why?” Ner vod you should have just left me. They’re gonna decommission me. Why try to save me.

Biting his lip Coric began, “We’ll convince the General you can do something ship-bound. Kitchen duty doesn’t need legs if you’re in a hoverchair. We won’t let them-“ With a bang the Generals sauntered in carrying a large bag.

“Morning Coric, Oz,” nodding to the pair, the two Generals laid the bag down. Oh tahla’ada, they’re gonna decommission me and put me in the bag. Oh Force, oh, Force…

“Hey,hey Ringo, it’s okay.” My General moved to take my hand. “Do you need a moment.”

Gasping I nod, “please sir, let me say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? Ringo its just a leg.” Both Generals now look confused, before looking around the sombre room. “Okay, a misunderstanding has occurred. Ringo, I’ve built you a leg; you’re not going anywhere.” She opened the bag revealing a cyber-leg. “We’re just attaching it, a few weeks of therapy and you’ll be back on your feet, er, foot.” 

“I thought that I’d be decommissioned.” Both Generals seem to be having a private Jedi conversation with their eyebrows. My General doesn’t say anything, just squeezes my hand and wipes a tear away.

Nodding, the other General smiled, “we’re not going to decommission you; any of you. Losing a limb doesn’t make you less of a person.” And to emphasise his point, he squeezed my hand with his mech-arm.  

Attaching the limb is painful. The neural net flares into life instantly; so it feels like I’ve lost the leg all over again. The snapping of the limb into place causes copious amounts of swearing; to which the other General grins sympathetically and Oz clings to my hand.

Once the pair with Coric checked the connection over they began discussing discharge. After a bit of a debate it was decided I could stay in the barracks under Oz’s watchful eye.

“Although you will be staying with Torrent as the last engagement destroyed Downpour’s barracks. I don’t even want to know how it got destroyed so that its covered in green paint.”

Oz and I just nod mutely until I’m moved from the stretcher to the bunk. He takes a deep steading breath, ner bare Oz, I have to drag him down until he’s curled up beside me. 

“Bic b urnr, Ni cuyir urnr, sh.” Nodding into my collar we settle down for the night.

 

 

Screams ruin our sleep. Several vod leap/fall from their bunks to the other thrashing in his sleep. Tup. Kix and Rex are desperately trying to calm him. Nightmares were seen as defective, set for decommission but the Generals said…

General Skywalker came bursting into the room with his lightsabre drawn, half asleep. I have no doubt that everyone will deny that the two elite companies of the 501st screamed like civies. Oz is on the floor. Rex and Kix have landed on top of Tup, Hardcase has flailed out of his bed and Coric is miraculously still asleep. I am trapped by the leg wrap else I would have landed on top of Oz.

Swaying, the General shut off his lightsabre and looked affronted when it didn’t clip to a belt that wasn’t there.

“Who was screaming?” That question wasn’t answered. But it didn’t need to be with Tup’s panicked look and Rex and Kix crouching defensively over him. Yawning, as if this was perfectly normal, Torrent’s General crawled into Tup’s bunk and placed his hand on Tup’s forehead.

And that’s it. The pair fall asleep like that; seriously. With little else to do everyone else had to climb into their bunks and sleep.

Didn’t even question it next morning. None of us did.

Except Coric when he slipped over General Skywalker’s lightsabre.

Jedi are weird.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cu'agr goodness  
> Ner vod my brother  
> tahla’ada fuck/fucking/fucked/fucker  
> ner bare my dear  
> Bic b urnr, Ni cuyir urnr It's alright, I'm alright


	4. CT-8541- On trial /Nickname/ Chopper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title; #squadgoals

“And so, CT-6392 is found guilty of traitorous acts against the Republic and sentenced to being decommissioned at Kamino.” A feral grin is plastered on my face as I watch Slick get taken out. The man had been a good Sargent but being a traitor could not be forgiven.

Although, everyone else here thought I was a traitor too. What I did was fine. Those clankers deserved it. I never betrayed anyone. But they want to string me up for the long necks. Back-stabbing eriya. Well, not everyone. Punch was on the side-lines, only member of the squad to actually turn up. When our eyes meet he gives a quick nod. Smiling, I turn to face my would-be executioner.

The natural born leading the trial began speaking as other vod pushed me forward towards the floor. “Case 1143, subject CT-8541, for violation of regulations 55.6, 11353.77 and 2202. Defence for CT-8541… General Am. Skywalker and General An. Skywalker.” What?

No _tahla’ada_ way the Generals came to defend me. Nah, tahla’ada this. They were probably told to. But sure enough they swagger onto the floor and stand either side of me. Twats.

“Good evening. Already I can clear Chopper here of two of these charges. With the previous testament of the previous case it is clear that being a traitor and aiding a traitor are false. Therefore I move to dismiss.” The General smirked as the natural born argued over the two charges. Holy surwearoe he actually did something. That, that’s unprecedented. A General doing something.

“Given the previous testimony of case 1142 it is agreed that the charges of the violations 11353.77 and 2202 are dismissed.  However, the violation of regulation 55.6 still stands.”

“Yes, exhibit A, the droid fingers that were turned into a necklace.” The eriya lifted my necklace up. Growling I went forward towards the judge but the general placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I would argue that the technique of the droid fingers should give him a pardon.” Conversation and outcry swept through the room. “I’ll let my sister explain.”

The other general leapt of the table she had been sitting on. “Each droid finger is neatly and precisely removed. I would argue that the breach in regulations should be forgiven for how good it is and have Chopper moved to the 501st where he can assist me in the scavenging of droids after battle.”

There was a bit of a stunned silence. I joined in with that stunned silence. Everyone bloody joined in with the stunned silence. Except the other General Skywalker with his surwearoe -eating grin.

“And how is that an appropriate action?” I would like to know that as well.

“I create limbs, and general body-part cybernetic replacements which prevent my boys from being, decommissioned.” Alright? “I’m simply not able to create enough cybernetic replacements out of the parts I have. So, I scrap the droids my boys shoot down to save their lives. Chopper demonstrates a natural ability to take droids apart without destroying the circuits needed. Furthermore,” she added, addressing the room at large,” not only do I build for the 501st, I also build for the 212th, 104th and 91st regularly as well as requested pieces. I am struggling with the work load even with Anakin’s help.  I need help. And I believe Chopper can help me save more lives. If you decommission him, more lives will be lost. Lives that could have been saved.”

Damn, she’s nearly convinced me. She almost seems sincere. The twin Generals standing in the court defending a clone they don’t know. Maybe a bit of Jedi-isms compels them to act.

The natural born sighed and gave the verdict. Tahla’ada the lot of them if they scrap me. “It is decided that CT-8541 will be reassigned to the 501st under supervision. Case dismissed.”

Surwearoe it worked. They actually did something decent.

The General swaggered over and the clapped a hand on my shoulder. “That went well. We’ll give you some time to say your goodbyes. Amelia and I will rondeau with you in, two hours. Northern hanger.” They nodded and flagged by the vod in blue left to do something. I don’t care what.

I’m turning to meet Punch. Frazzled, he clings to me. Returning the hug I look my brother over, “You were really worried; your beard is messy!”

Chuckling weakly, he pulls back. “Well, you were on trial. I, I’m gonna miss you vod.”

Swallowing I nod, “I’ll miss you too.” Clapping the other on the shoulder I move towards the door, “come on, near death experience make you hungry. I fancy a trip to the mess.”

Other brothers part like we’re infectious. Scowling I glare at them, I was let off the hook but non care, I’m guilty in their eyes. But, it does mean that we make it to the mess in record time.  And our food in record time. And seats in record time.

Do they think I’m contagious?

Apparently, my scowl is back because Punch nudges me under the table.  “Ignore it, ain’t worth it. You didn’t do anything bad.”

Rolling my eyes, I bark back, “if didn’t do anything bad then where are the others?” Gus and I never got along swimmingly but surely Jester and Sketch would have, oh surwearoe what did it matter. They washed their hands of me and I wasn’t coming back.

Still, Punch stopped shovelling food into his mouth at my words. “I don’t know. I thought they’d come but, I dunno. Wanna find them and punch them?”

Snickering I shake my head, “Nah, ‘s not worth it.”

We descend into silence. It’s nice, routine. I’m going to miss this.

The rest of the squad never show, so Punch and I spend my last two hours chatting as if nothings changed.

But when it does end Punch walks me to the hanger.

My new Commander and a few other vod are there waiting.

Stepping forward crisply he nods at Punch then evaluates me. “The only squad with a place free was Downpour Company, General Skywalker’s personal squad. Fitting since you’ll be working with her after battles. This is Downpour, Oz and Ringo, and our medic Coric. I lead. And let us make one thing clear,” the lot lean over in a form of intimidation, “the Generals stuck their neck out on the line for you. Hurt our General, betray her trust, and you’ll wish you got decommissioned. Am I clear trooper?”

“Sir yes Sir,” I muttered.

When climbing on the transport Punch gave me a pair of thumbs up yelling “Good Luck!”. It looked like I was going to need all the luck I could get surviving these eriya.

“I’ll see you again vod! I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eriya dicks  
> tahla’ada fuck/fucking/fucker/fucked   
> surwearoe crap/shit/shitting  
> vod brother


	5. Captain Rex, CT-7567, of Torrent Company and second of General Anakin Skywalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title; Rex dealing with their kark part 2.

We are being hit fairly hard from the front and right. The casualties were high yet the fatalities were thankfully low. Downpour was leaping over the wall like madmen (and their General was mad) to take out the left flank whilst my General… leapt over the damn wall like a madman.

“Torrent! Move your shebs over the wall. Go, go GO!” Following the path of destruction Torrent tore through the clankers providing the rest of the 501st time to swarm the enemy. The clankers don’t know what hit them. Blue blasts tear the droids limb from limb. Jesse and Hardcase provide cover fire for our General, Kix blasting any remaining droids that attempted to edge around us. I tried to hit any that came too close to the General. But his sweeping arcs and great leaps makes it difficult for prediction. A sense of smug satisfaction came as I hit two droids that the General was about to slash.  Of course, I know him well enough, I would be bold to say I know him better than most of the Jedi do. So when we charge into battle, I know I’m capable of watching his back. 

Wonder if Cody has picked up Kenobi’s ‘sabre yet?  

Eventually, the fighting died down enough to allow a retreat and regroup. The Generals moved forward to discuss the fresh supplies and troops. This was sorely needed. Calculating the distribution of the supplies and men, I turned to listen to reports. My brief respite was ruined by the exasperated cries of “ _Which_ Skywalker?”

Turning around I saw the 501st Generals scowling and marching towards the troops with a youngling. Tortugan, wearing too few clothes for the battle field. I mean, my General and General wear some armour (but not enough, because they need _flexibility._ What they need is less blaster burns and trips to the med bay) but this kid wandering around was ridiculous.

General Skywalker groaned at something the youngling said.

“Who's the youngling?” The generals turned to face me. The kid seemed insulted.

“I'm Master Skywalker's Padawan. The name's Ahsoka Tano.” Please not a shiny Commander.

“Sir, I thought you two said you'd never have a Padawan.”

Indignant my General replied, “There's been a mix-up. The youngling isn't with us.”

“Stop calling me that! You're stuck with me, Skyguy” said youngling cried out.

I burst out laughing. Only his sister teased him like this.

“What did you just call me? Don't get snippy with me, little one. You know, I don't even think you're old enough to be a Padawan.”

“Well maybe I'm not, but Master Yoda thinks I am...”

She faltered due to the stare she received from the other General.

“Well Yoda isn’t here. And no, his opinion does not count as only we can accept you. Neither of us can be forced to take a Padawan if we do not want to.” Sighing, she moved towards Appo. Seeming unwilling to be left with the youngling, my General introduced us and scarpered.

“So, if you're a captain, and I'm a Jedi, then technically I outrank you, right?”

No, she did not just say that. “In my book, experience outranks everything.” She was considering my words which is better than most natural-borns.

“Then I had better get some experience then.” I nod. Might not be the worst natural I’ve served under. Still needs some damn armour.

 

Speaking of natural leaders, the generals are discussing the shield that the Seppies are now using.

“The heavy cannons will be useless against them” I comment. It’s a death trap. A lot of good brothers are going to die today. “This will be damn near impossible.”

The Generals are debating and coming up with crazy plans.

“So to summarise, Ani and the youngling here are going to sneak in via the power of a box, Obi-wan will negotiate and the rest of us will, what, pray to the twin suns?” My General snorted at his sister’s words.

“Relax, when has any of my plans gone wrong?”

“I think Rex has them alphabetised.”

I nodded as Skywalker laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Sorry Rex, but they work. See you on the other side!”

And with that the General with the youngling ran into the fray. That man needs all the luck in the Galaxy and a bit more.

 

That man had all the luck in the Galaxy. Or perhaps his sister did for surviving with him for this long.

My General wandered over, gaze on the youngling. “What do you think of her?”

A smaller version of you in need of training and an attitude adjustment. “She has potential, sir.”

Skywalker mulled my words over. Feeling the dismissal, I moved to confer with Appo. I didn’t envy his position. Yes, we both led a general’s personal company, but he was the official Commander. He did the reports.

So, as I have fewer reports to do at the moment, I unrepeatably listened in. It may affect the battalion.

“You’re reckless little one.” My General sat beside the young Tortuga. “You’d never make it as Obi-wan’s padawan.”

The other General nodded also sitting down, “You might just make it as ours.”

 

Well, now Appo wasn’t the only Commander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shebs ass-asses


	6. Medical Sargent Coric (CM-2564) of Downpour Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title, Sugar, spice and a big bag of ice

I was told this was a simple mission. A quick mission and make-sure-no-one-is-dying-on-the-surface-and-leave-mission but no, we’ve done our job and they were still talking. Mercy missions are great they are really; there is less fighting and moaning but I was here to provide cover and ensure General Kenobi doesn’t die before he lands on the planet again. The civilians were even fairly nice, not the friendliest but they weren’t rude per se except when they talked in a language we didn’t speak. Not even behind our backs. Perhaps I’ll just turn around to make it easier for them. Now at the moment General Skywalker one and General Skywalker two are talking to the leader Cham Syndulla. Stocky build, pale orange colouring with a singular leku leading down his back. By the looks of it had recently broken and set fingers on his right hand.

Currently he and the Generals the debating the ability to supply foods that people are in real need of. I’d estimate they needed a 20% increase in their calorie intake to avoid malnutrition and maybe some sugar to sweeten the tempers. My General snorted; I must be broadcasting louder than I thought. Still these people needed a larger sugar intake. For their health and running away abilities from clankers whilst my brothers died for them. And Syndulla mutters something again to his assistant; “Juno'hervoe tlaran geo toe kenk'irenur”. 

It sounds insulting and I’m fairly certain Appo is about to jump in to defend our general’s honour but she replies smoothly; “Koa t'u ji kenk'irenur jinqa tilor Ryl arsian bo bu Tatoo Juno'hervoe.”

 

General Skywalker snickers at his sister’s comment. Kindly switching to basic for us mere clones who just speak two languages Syndulla is finally looking at my general with something akin to respect.

“You speak Ryl?”

“Of course,” other General Skywalker replies, strangely sad about the fact, “in the slave quarters on Tattoine-“ the generals were in the kriffing _slave_ quarters?- “we switched languages with as many people as possible; the more languages you speak the more value you had. Therefore you’re less likely to be sent to the pleasure district. Why waste a useful slave? Our friend Kohl spoke Ryl and we spoke Cheunh so we traded. Kept her out of the district and saved us from being separated from mom.”

              

The bitterness in her voice was palpable. What, what a terrible way to live. No wonder the Generals never mentioned that. It was so similar to how we remembered our ‘childhoods’; remember the culture but not the suffering. 

 

“The point being Syndulla, we understand your people suffering better than many Jedi can and we want to help.” See that’s my General, calm collected until she gets in a fight.

“We dug our slave chips out with forks and we were 12 but” -she did kriffin’ _what_ now- “we do not intend to merely use our freedom for ourselves. One day will return home and free other slaves. But we can’t do it now during the war. People are being enslaved now by the Separatist especially on Ryloth. So I’m begging you to work with General Kenobi and Windu to save as many people as you can.”

Nodding with the tiniest of smiles on his lips Syndulla move forward the clasp arms with both Generals. “Then we shall work together to end this war quickly so that you may return home soon, Tatoo Jedi.” Moving away to leave I meet eyes with Kix and nod. Our generals are getting a kriffing medical exam whether they like it or not.

 

“Coric I do not need a medical exam.”

“With respect sir, stuff it.”

“We removed the chips it’s fine.”

“It is not fine, you use a fork! Fork! Not even a knife!”

Huffing she shook her head like I’m the unreasonable one. “Well those are harder to steal from the dinning hall. Anakin stole it from a bowl.”

She used a dirty fork.

“I’m not getting out the medical exam am I?”

“No sir.”

Sighing with a put-about air, the General moves to the bed and began stripping armour. Taking off a tunic revealed a bright blue tattoo on her left shoulder. Kriff, it was the 501st logo; two crossed lightsabres with Commander Tano’s leku at the top and 501st proudly sitting in the centre. She must realise what I was staring at.

“Anakin has a matching one his shoulder too, I hope you don’t mind.”

Pretending that I was not suddenly choked up by our Generals dedication to us as to having the logo tattooed on their bodies I coughed out; “bit late now to be bothered by it.”

 She snickered.

She _knows_.

“You are looking for a lumpy bumpy scar on the right shoulder blade, near the spine.”

It was a terrible jagged criss-cross scar. Around the edges I could actually tell where the fork been jabbed in to try and dig this chip out. I’ve seen plenty of terrible scars but this this is something else. Because aren’t Jedi meant to help slaves and certainly their own? Would it kill them to have removed these chips, so that two children didn’t have to dig it out with a fork. I know I’m growling as I scan to see if there’s any remnants and feel a slight calm feeling washing over.

“With respect General, thinking calm is not gonna stop me being angry at the medical staff you Jedi hire.”

“While it was deactivated they thought removal was unnecessary.” The bitterness was clear.

Any reply I have is cut off by the screaming figure of Anakin Skywalker being dragged by his feet by Rex and Kix, Jesse holding the lightsabre away from him. Helpfully she revealed that his chip was in his left hip. General Skywalker screamed she was a bloody traitor in several languages. I think.

A beep interrupts me. Sighing, I was pleased to note that nothing of the chips remained, but there’ll always be a ghastly scar there. Given the day’s event I’ll even forgive Appo clucking like a mother Tooka over my shoulder because _yes_ , I’ve done it already. I’ll just help the General get her armour back on while Kix checks his Skywalker. My fingers linger over the left shoulder where the tattoo is. I know several in the centre would have seen it. The whole ship will know soon. But they’re gonna know two things from today; one the Generals’ past is a lot darker than they led to believe, and two these are definitely _our_ Generals. And the possible third thing that Anakin Skywalker does not like check-ups. Entertaining though, for us.

_  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juno'hervoe tlaran geo toe kenk'irenur Jedi take us for fools  
> Koa t'u ji kenk'irenur jinqa tilor Ryl arsian bo bu Tatoo Juno'hervoe. No more the fool who speaks Ryl infront of two Tatoo Jedi.   
> kriffing/kriffin' fucking


	7. Hardcase/CT-9961—Torrent in the 501st Battalion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title; Generic ship fluff and murder

 

Today is one of those rare days when there wasn’t much to do but relax and enjoy hyperspace between one fight to the next. Captain Rex had us run dozens of different drills, but we did have to bring in new people the torrent since Commander Tano would be with us on the ground. Got Dogma, Downpour has Chopper; but there’s only so many drills we can do. Finally _, finally_ we’re free to do what we want.

Except for the Commander, she and the other General are running Jedi drills with their lightsabres. Which is awesome. Swish, stab-stab! Okay, yes, it’s more complicated and has nuance, but it looks so cool. And that has me sitting for ages watching the pair hack at each other. It’s not exactly graceful; like General Kenobi. The Commander was too young to be truly graceful, her moves are good but not refined. On the other hand, graceful really isn’t a good description for the Generals. They have that twirl of I’m-gonna-kriff-you-up with their lightsabres (which is always fun to see in a battle) and they smash through a hoard of clankers, it’s epic, powerful, heroic. But not graceful. Unrefined confidence, yep that’s how my General fights. The Commander just has a bucket load of confidence but no experience and that outranks everything. Still, them spinning slashes were brilliant.

I’ve been spending too much time with Ringo.

“Enjoy the show, Hardcase?” Oh, they had finished with their sparing.

“Yeah! That was great, you going to spar with the other general now?”

“Nah, Skyguy still recovering from, er, Master how’d you put it?”

Looking up from her perch on a crate she snarked, “his idiotic attempt to catch an explosion that failed.”

Snorting the Commander nodded, “yeah, he’s recovering from that.”

A muffled cry came from under a ship, “it was not _idiotic_!”

“Yes it was!”

“Lo sash stidd  gooddé geego!”

“An  oonkaee!”

All I can see of my General is his bare feet. Has a wooden bracelet round an ankle, cool.

The pair are still bickering (making fun of the other General reading history pads I think?) so I face the Commander who’s still in the impromptu sparring ring.

“Fancy a round?” It would be good for her to learn combat from someone who wasn’t a Jedi. Besides, Jesse wasn’t here for a spar and I’m bouncing with energy. Kix was under the impression it was a bad thing. Apparently when I’m bouncing I cause accidents. I maintain not my fault.

“Sure.”

Confidence is a strange thing. My brothers use it effectively, undermines the enemy. But for those with less of a stranglehold on it is a magnificent weakness. Such a weakness, my Commander unfortunately has. For she strikes first and I flip her onto the floor. Ha ha ha, she looks so shocked!

“Again?” I tease.

Largely I am on the defensive, turning her momentum into a hard smack on the floor. I’ll give her this though, eventually she learns.

“Master, care to join?”

“Nope, quite happy reading ‘Soka.”

Half rising my General looked excited at the idea of a fight. “I’ll-“

“No you won’t,” Kix yelled, dragging the General out from under the ship. “General Skywalker, sir, whilst bacta has done wonders for your ribs you still require rest. Preferably in a bed.”

“Kix, my ribs aren’t going to splinter to sand lying under a ship. Relax.”

What idiot tells the medic to relax? Anakin-freaking-Skywalker. Kix is gonna blow; where’s Jesse? Someone get him.

“Sir, stay on the crate.” Glowering, Kix ‘gently’ placed him back onto a crate.

Skywalker moved to protest, but, luckily, the tension was broken by the enraged yells of “RINGO!” Sprinting into the room, said brother dove behind Oz for cover. Chopper burst into the room mere moments later.

Appo raised an eyebrow; “what are you doing solider?”

Heaving, Chopper pointed accusingly at Ringo, “he messed up my work station.”

“I just wanted to look!”

Oz groaned.

“Did he mess up my half of the workstation?” Other General looked over the edge of her pad, and then annoyed at the nod.

“More importantly, did he mess up my workstation?” demanded my General.

“Yes sir.”

“Right,” nodding Skywalker unclipped his lightsabre, “okay Chopper. This is a lightsabre; and this is the on switch. Go nuts.”

Gleefully, Chopper legged it after a shrieking Ringo (Oz exasperated in the corner) whilst we watched. He dived past Appo, weaved between Rex and Tup, leapt over the still-reading General and cowered behind Kix. Kix is a good shield. I think he’s lightsabre proof. In fact, I reckon he’ll be the last clone standing because death will be too scared to take him.

“No killing Ringo.”

Ultimate glare-off. After intense glaring Chopper relented. “Fine, but he’s not allowed in my workstation anymore.”

Only allowed in the 501st of you’re a crazy di’kut; I reckon Chopper will be great. If he can tolerate Ringo for more than five minutes.

With that excitement over I enter a ready position. Someone has to teach the Commander how to fight, might help her keep up with the crazy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kriff fuck  
> Lo sash stidd gooddé geego It was still a good idea  
> An oonkaee! For a donkey (ass)   
> di’kut idiot
> 
>  
> 
> I'm thinking of publishing these twice a week, may put one out on Wednesday.


	8. Medic (Corporal) Kix (CM-6116) of Torrent Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title Kix hates this planet, Rex hates this planet, Anakin hates this planet. EVERYONE HATES THIS PLANET

Geonosis could jump into a sun and be stuffed down Dooku’s throat.  It’s hot, dangerous and the biggest graveyard known to any clone. Burn you pit of a planet.

“Go!” Jesse’s cover fire buy’s me the time to drag a fallen brother to my make-shift medzone. Even covered in six inches of dirt I recognise the paint job.

“Havoc? Can you hear me?” Vitals are stable, but his pupils are slow to react. Dammit, he’s got a concussion.

Further confirmed by his sluggish response of “yessir”.

Possible hairline fracture, split skin on the back of the head. Damn it’ll take the last of my bandages. Wrapping his head makes his eyes roll. Right.

“Dreggs, Graves, run this man to evac!”

Without a word the pair race back into a more secure location.

“You good?"

“I’m out of bandages.” Jesse is fairly good at guessing what I need/mean. Medic’s snap a lot. And bless Jesse, he had extra bandages and bacta on him. Without a word he passed over his bandages and I worked on the shiny that was dumped in front of me. Not a shiny anymore. But definitely his first battle.

“You got a name kid?” If I wasn’t pinning his leg down he’d have jumped a mile. But talking helped people not focus on whatever agony they’re in.

Swallowing he shook his head.

“Thinking of any?” Cutting away his blacks revealed a severe cut. He’d need a bacta patch, but with everyone else standard bandages would have to do.

He shook his head again. Cleaning the wound revealed its unusual shape.

“Ya know, this kinda looks like a lightning bolt.”

“Yeah?” That’s it, even a smile.

Wrapping it up tightly he can’t see the wound (which if he did would make it worse not better), although it may bleed through the bandages later. “Oh yeah, have you seen my hair? I know what a lightning bolt looks light.”

Aw, he even laughed.

“Do you think Bolt is a good name?” With the last of his armour clipped into place I can see his eager smile.

“I think it’s a great name, kid.”

 As he limps off Jesse yells, “hey Bolt!” Only to nod when the kid turned. “Just checking it worked.” The kid walked off grinning.

Kenobi needed medical attention, where was he? Ah, there, one arm slung over my General with the Commander.

Oh Force they were bickering, _still_. 

Unashamedly we listened in because as soon as they started arguing on the ship in Jesse had a betting pool set up.

“Are you afraid you lost this time?” quipped Tano.

“Fine, 55, that’s my count. And you?” I think Tup had Skywalker down for the 50’s; I’ll have to check with Jesse.

“60, looks like I won.”

“Yeah,” General hates losing, “but I called in the airstrike- tie!” “You’re impossible,” she fondly said.

“65 Skywalker” Mundi stated.

Did anyone have Mundi for winning? I had Kenobi but then he had to go and get injured.

Confused, he turned. “Er what?”

“My total. 65, so what do I win?” The betting pool that we totally do not have.

Skywalker and Kenobi exchanged a look. “My everlasting respect, Mater Mundi.”

“Oh,” he said, disappointed. Jedi are no damn better than cadets.

“And this shield generator we stole!” There’s the other Skywalker. Appears unharmed, but I’m sure Coric can keep an eye on her. She and Chopper push it into the ship. “Still works, just needs a bit of fine tuning; but I’m sure your mechanics can patch it up in no time.” The 21st Nova boys looked appreciatively at the generator as it was loaded it.

“Look at that Master, a generator and Anakin’s respect; a gift he rarely bestows, I assure you.” Well at least Kenobi is still able to joke. And he’ll be first to be checked out when they get on a ship no doubt. Good.

Hesitantly, my General reached out to General Mundi. “Um, Master Mundi, I have a favour to ask.”

“What is it Skywalker?”

“My sister and I have been in the Senate floor a bit too much; we’ve gained quite a few naysayers. Since you are going to Coruscant perhaps you could argue against a bill they are proposing. You aren’t really linked with us, and as a Jedi council member they may listen to you more.”

Mundi considered his words. “Have the bill and your notes sent to me. I think I know which one you are referring too; I will try to attend.”

Relief was evident on both Skywalker’s faces. “Thank you Master Mundi.” I hate it when they speak at the same time; its bloody annoying.

Moving away I spotted it. My General had red sleeves, but one was definitely darker than the other.

“Sir-“

“Told you, Kix was going to notice.” She used the Force to fling some sand in his face before running away. Spluttering, my general didn’t notice my approach.  

“Sir, let me see that.”

“It’s a small cut!”

He caved at my unimpressed face. Whilst I put bandages on the ‘small’ cut (di’kut) Jesse cried out, “How did Bacara get on the betting pool and win?”           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> di’kut idiot


	9. Chopper of Downpour Company (CT CS-8541)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title; Barriss for kriffing once has a nice day.

 

Tweezers delicately move a few wires into place, so I can solder them into place. Sighing I move the completed circuit into the wrist. As soon as it clicks into place the arm whirs into life. Nodding as it works correctly I switch it off to place it in the crate for the 212th. I think that Hits lost his arm in the last deployment.

Honestly, I’ve lost track of who’s had what attached to them. I know I’ve had an injury or two, heck one’s on my head. But really, everyone needs to just stop getting body parts blown off. It would mean less work for me. And less work for the Generals. They’re not as bad as I thought they would be. Still crazy and idiotic at times, but not half bad with technology, although my General prefers cybernetic enhancements whilst the other works on ships more. Can’t forgive them for the abomination that is C-3PO. I do not care if the thing was built out of scrap parts at the age of 9, it is the most annoying droid in existence. If it pops by one more time with its bucket load of anxiety it’s going out the damn airlock. Yes Mistress, oh thank the stars, the odds are astronomically against us! Yes Master Ani-

“Planning 3PO’s demise again?” General Skywalker strode into the room followed by Commander Offee, right, she said that we switched Commanders with the 41st. No wonder it was quiet. Our Commander was a hellion.

“Barriss, this is Chopper. He’s the cybernetics specialist of the 501st.” And that is now my official tittle. CS _-_ 8541/ Chopper. I’m going to get Appo to change it on my forms. I reach out and shake her hand. Then move on to my next project because I don’t have to deal with her.

“Right, Barriss we’ll be making the three most requested pieces of prosthetics; arms, legs and hearing aids.” Yep, hearing aids; idiots standing too close to bombs. Surprising, only three cyber-eyes had been sent out. Shocking since bald-pe’nr had a thing for eyes. My General’s face was a testament to it. So we just had a bucket of eyes next to my bucket of fingers. I’m going to need to get a second bucket. Kriff the droids.

Should I be paying attention to what Skywalker is saying? Probably. There are the following things in the room; a, explosives, b, a novice with a soldering iron, and c, me. Also, the General, I guess I’d pull her out an explosion.

“Is this correct Master Skywalker?” The ‘skeleton’ of the arm was neatly made, perhaps not as well as she or I could but functional.

“Not half bad” she jumped as I complimented her, twitchy little thing.

“Thank you,” Offee replied, before the jetii pair started on the wiring. I moved onto the spinal column pieces.

The next few hours were actually pleasant. The jetii learnt quickly, mastering the limbs within two hours. The limbs weren’t fancy, but ones with synth-skin cost a fortune. Even the other General didn’t have synth-skin.

But they were doing the hearing aid. Tiny fiddly little geyeya’en. I hated it when we got orders for hearing aids. Yeah, vode needed them but put your damn helmets on when there are explosions. Helmets! Use them!

But this was the rarely seen sensible Jedi as she too was hating (not hating as Jedi don’t do hate unless their name is Skywalker) making the tiny parts mash together into a functional tiny thing.

By the time I’ve built half a spines worth of pieces she’s got a smidge of an aid.

“Right, no Commander, move the soldering iron a tad left. Then twist that piece slightly and it’ll slot in.”

Finally it works and a smile blossoms across her face.

“Do you do this often with Master Skywalker?” Offee inquired.

“Yep, between us we create enough parts to keep 1/3 of the army going. Maybe with your help we can make it up to half the GAR.”

“Even more impressive is if you can get Master Piell to have a cybernetic. I would pay money to see that. Anyhow,” snorting at the idea of the small General, Skywalker started collecting limbs, ”Luminara said you were training to be a healer. So, a few of the boys agreed to have you aid in attaching the limbs and hearing aids.” 

Stretching I moved to get the 501st limbs; only five today.

Largely I tune out the conversation between the two until we make to the med-bay.  Then I just ignore them so I can chat with Ringo.

“Do you spend all your time getting body-parts blown off?”

“Hey Chopper! Yep, this way Oz doesn’t have to lose parts. Besides, it’s two fingers today.”

Oz smacked him on the arm, “Great, you lost bits, now stop it! Giving me a bloody heart attack every five minutes.” Our laughter covered the approach of the two Jedi.

“Again Ringo? Trying to beat Grievous. If you are that would be awesome, make like eight arms and freak him out so much.” Still laughing we moved so the jetii could attach the new fingers. “Same as last time Ringo, slowly exercise and get use to it. Don’t get it wet with the wiring damaged. Etcetera, etcetera.” I think we would have continued joking around if not for General Unduli and her green gits sauntered in.

“Barriss, we are leaving now. I hope your time was spent wisely.” Ew, she’s got that tone. And we all watch as the Commander lost the smile it had taken hours for her to gain.

“She’s been doing wonderfully. Clearly she has a natural talent as a healer and not half-bad as a tech worker. You must be proud.” There’s a challenge there. “Barriss you’ve been lovely company today, I’m sure even Chopper tolerated your presence, and he doesn’t like anyone who isn’t his brother and he doesn’t even like all of his brothers.” That sent Ringo and Oz into giggles. “Luminara and I are just going to step outside for a moment.”

The Generals walked out. Whatever they were ‘discussing’ we didn’t get to hear. But we did see the pair come back in.

“Barriss, you’ve done well. We’ve got a campaign upcoming, so time to go.” Commander Offee bowed before scurrying after her Master.

“If it helps Sir, I tolerate you more than most.”

Bursting into laughter she sat on Ringo’s bed; “Yes! I can die happy because Chopper tolerates me!” She was still laughing when I pushed her off the bed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pe’nr dog  
> Kriff fuck  
> geyeya’en fuckers   
> vode brothers


	10. Marshal Commander Cody serving under General Kenobi with the 212th Clone Battalion (CC-2224)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title;  Corrasaunt politics and booze (work well together)

 

Four shots were not quite enough to make a clone drunk, but by far it was enough to make a nat-born drunk. Yet a clone was pleasantly buzzed. My men however, were on 12 shots were reaching the drunk end of things.

“Trapper go on she’s sitting by herself, bet she’d love to dance.”

The murmuring centred around the last woman from a group of civvies by the bar. Her long grey coat graced the floor as she knocked back another drink. Civvie here take as many shots as a clone. The rest of her group were swirling around the dance floor.

Speaking of clones taking shots, Trapper downed another before stealing up the courage to ask to dance. And within seconds all the blood drained from his face. Boil and Waxer half rose in case he needed backup. Yet she dragged him out to dance, so why was he so,

Oh no,

That was general Skywalker, very much a woman when not in armour.  Laughing she encouraged a slack-jawed vod to move. Trapper had a few turns around floor before another from the general’s group snatched him away.

Noticing our rather slack-jaws she wondered over.

“Hello boys, having fun tonight?”

“Yes, sir” Waxer answered, spilling Boil’s drink in his efforts to answer speedily.

“Surprised to see you here Cody, you’re usually buried in paperwork.”

“Managed to finish it in time for a night out.” I don’t think she’ll report us considering all of this is very not allowed.

Nodding she turned to her group, “same, this is the first time since the war started since I was able to go on a bar crawl, but don’t tell Obi-wan I go on bar crawls,” she hastily added.

One of the (admittedly pretty) ladies from her group slung her arms around the general’s neck. “Amelia my room is cold, mind warming it up for me?”

Glancing between woman and us she added, “and don’t tell Obi-wan I do this either, bye!”

That was the weirdest exchange of my life.

 

The Senate building was tall and imposing yet graceful. The complete opposite of the actual Senate itself, but I guess they needed everything to fake what they were meant to be. Hurrying along the corridors I turned right and ran straight into General Skywalker.

“Apology sir I-“ I’ve knocked the datapad out his hand. Scooping up I hand it back, “um, here sir.”

“No problem Cody, accident happen. In fact, if you’re not in a hurry, can I run something by you?”

General Kenobi had requested him to escort Senator Organa in 20 minutes so I had time. It paid to be early.

“Of course sir, what do you need”, face politely blank, it was the opposite of his rather animated one. His face was always animated or scowling. He would be terrible at sabacc.

“Senator Orn Free Taa of Ryloth put forward a bill to cut down clone food rations. I’ve run the numbers past Rex, but would you say this is a reasonable amount for a war front battalion?”

I’ve heard of this bill, damn thing that will have us all starve to death before any clankers get us. Certainly worth looking over. I take the offered pad.

“It was a very cleverly worded compromise. Whilst largely looking like an agreement, it barely sacrificed any rations. Technically labelled under ‘mission appropriate additional’, it gave Commander’s legroom for very careful abuse. With the way it was written, it could be labelled ‘mission appropriate’ for a battalion to have a Nexu.

It was all perfectly written. Has any of his reports ever been so neat? “This is truly something sir.”

“Great because it took two bloody days to write the thing, hopefully they won’t notice the loophole.”

“Just one thing sir,” I said, eyes glancing at the bottom of the document, “you spelt your name wrong.”

Sitting rather proudly at the bottom of the document was Anzakinn Skaeewakah, Shimi'z son. Which is far as every report I’ve had to fill out on him(which is many), is not how you spell his name.

“What? Oh no that’s my birth name.” He shrugged.

“Sir?” Like a number, did natural borns have numbers as well and then chose a new name?

“Yeah, my birth language is Huttese, which means my name comes with a side effect of not being able to pronounce. In Basic name translates it to Anakin Skywalker; that was my mom’s idea. Official documents require proper filling out an all which is irritating so I irritate them back.”

“Although,” he adds, smirking fondly, “the Jedi can’t complain because saying that I can’t have my birth culture would make them the biggest hypocrites ever. Amelia and I fill out all our reports in it and no one checks.  I once wrote ‘and then the Jedi Masters had an orgy’ and no one noticed!”

He sounds like an excited cadet. Yet there is something sad about no one saying your name and having to choose a second one. No matter how strange a brother’s name is you put your effort into learning it. It’s degrading otherwise.

Skywalker’s eyes flick to his flashing com. “Ah, that’ll be Master Mundi, sorry gotta go Cody.”

“Goodbye Sir.” He sweeps into the Senate hall, and I meander to the Alderaan suites. It still doesn’t seem right that no one says his name. My General surely must. He was his Padawan after all. But still…

The mess was experiencing one of the rare times of when it was quiet, and the even rarer when I had nothing to do.

There’s a few easily accessible reports from the 501st, and sure enough both Generals have a Huttese reports as well as Basic. I skim down to Am. Skywalker’s report. Ama’lea Skaeewakah, Shimi'z oaughtah.

Right.

Huttese is a surprisingly difficult language to learn. Written is easy, but the accent is problematic. Some vowels are elongated, others are clipped. All is to be spoken in a deep slow voice. Which was odd. An. Skywalker had something closer to a Corascaunti accent, yet Am. Skywalker has a more pronounced Huttese accent. Wonder what the difference that caused that is. However, it doesn’t hurt to practice.

For which after several confused looks I move to my quarters. I don’t need the few within the hall staring at me.

 

The next time I’m in the Senate building I pass General Skywalker in the corridor.

“Jeenrah Skaeewakah, sir” I nod and move away.

Turing around the corner I catch a glimpse of his broad grin.

 

_  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vod brother


	11. Fives (CT-5555), Torrent Company with the Skywalkers and Tano, 501st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title; Swimming in the deep blue sea, I lot of scrapped droids I see

We spent the first few months of our time off Kamino on the Rishi moon base, to keep our vod safe and my batchmates died. They’re gone but Kamino is still under attack. It’s like all Heavy did was for nothing.

Every clanker I snipe is for my brothers inside these halls. That’s for Heavy. Die you unfeeling metal bastards.

Hurried, disproportionate footsteps came from behind. What is 99 doing here?

“99?” I call, taking another clanker down.

“I brought you some ammo” He carefully laid down his backpack to reveal selection of grenades.

For every droid we take down we miss another three. No one knows Kamino like 99. “Is there a better spot for this? A better defensive position?”

But my question went unanswered, for Echo cried, “Look out! droids behind us!”

Hastily, I shoved 99 out of the line of fire best I could and drove for the grenades he brought us. And they did their job wonderfully, turning clankers into shrapnel.

“Lookout!” 99 pointed towards smoke concealed figures. Luck would have it that neither Echo nor I were overly trigger-happy, for it was not the droids that 99 claimed that a group of cadets.

“Cadets,” Echo stated, copying my thoughts. Was it a clone thing to say the obvious or an Echo thing?

Echo turned accusingly at the cadets, “what are you doing here?” 

In fairness, Echo had to put up with him sneaking out all the time. If he were a cadet right now he’d be out fighting. “We got separated from our group.”

“Where were they taking you?”

Facing Echo’s blank helmet, the leader of this group visibly squirmed, “the barracks.”

Excitedly 99 joined in, “Oh, I know the best way there.”

So, it became a mad race through the back corridors (that thankfully the droids had not yet penetrated). No doubt the long necks had 99 traverse lesser used corridors, so they need not see him.

Luckily, we made it without losing any cadets. Brothers that young weren’t meant to see real fire.

Under the cover of sleeping pods cadets collapsed: acting leader CT-8949 (yet to have a name) spoke for the group. “What are we gonna do?”

An excellent question and judging by the shake of Echo’s head he too did not have an answer.

Morosely 99 said, “a separatist victory means death. For all of us. The cadet is right, what are we going to do?”

“We fight.” Little gods Rex were you waiting for an entrance que?

“But our training isn’t finish.” No kidding half-pint.

“Look around,” I move forward to address our young brothers, “we are one in the same, same heart, same blood. Your training is in your blood and my blood is boiling for a fight.”

“This is our home, this is our war,” I nodded gratefully to Echo for backing me up.

“But what about weapons?” a different cadet asked.

“The armoury,” all heads turned 99, “it’s just a few corridors away in the barracks. It will have all the firepower we need, so who wants to blast droids?” Yes, now we stand a chance. Even Commander Cody nodded in approval.

Our run to the armoury unfortunately drew the attention of clankers. So we had ammunition, but we also have more heat upon us. They had us outnumbered.

Or so they thought.

I dived behind one pile of crates, while the Commander and Captain hid behind another.

The droid’s fire. It was too intense, so we had to move back to the Commander’s position. Rex bought time with a detonator. Clankers fell but not fast enough. Commander Cody had to fall back, his cover another detonator.

Droids moved ever closer, right under the sleeping pods. Bursting from the pods, cadet fire had the clankers pressed on two sides. Droids scrambled to hit anything; we were gaining on them.

If Echo and I were cadets we would totally be doing this (as well probably laughing maniacally like that one in the far corner, you go mini Hardcase).

Another explosion took down some droids, but it left us without any detonators.

Vaguely I heard the cry of, “99 you can’t!”

Turning I watched in horror as 99 limped towards armoury. “I’m a soldier like you!”

No, no 99! Maybe if we hit the droids hard enough Rex can run back for him.

“99!” echo screamed, along the same thought process as I, began taking down as many droids quickly as he could.

As the cadets clambered down, I made my way down to his body. “We did it,” one excited voice exclaimed. Cradling 99, Echo shoulders shuddered with silent sobs.

Dejectedly, Cody looked around to us all, “we’ve lost a true soldier. He really was one of us.”

Rumour had it that Cody and 99 had been batch mates; the perfect commander and a freak clone. It’s hard to lose batch mate and judging by his soulful expression he just had. We gave him time to grieve, averted eyes and gave him privacy best we could.

Any brother deserves that.

Later we listen to Hardcase excitedly describing what happened on the rest of Kamino. “And then witch jumped like using the force into a ship to escape!”

“We’ll get her next time.”

“Echo, Fives attention!” Cody and Rex marched over as Hardcase scarpered.

“Echo, Fives,” Rex greeted.

“You both really stepped up in the heat of battle,” Cody complemented.

“We did what we had to, sir,” Echo always downplaying our achievements, “What any clone would have done.”

Striding forward Rex began his I-have-a-dramatic-speech-spiel, “both of you showed valour out there, real coverage. Reminded me of me actually.”

“Echo, Fives you’re both officially being made ARC troopers.”

Echo’s jaw dropped. Little gods ARC troopers!

“I don’t think the Separatists will be coming back any time soon, but if they do Kamino will be lucky to have clones like you here to defend it. Good job men!” They saluted and crisply marched off.

 

Slowly I turn to Echo, grinning, “we’re ARC troopers!”


	12. CT-21-0408 //ARC-CT-21-0408//nickname//Echo. 501st Clone Battalion. Torrent Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title, the last of the happy times

 

Returning to the 501st was strange. The _Resolute_ felt the same; humming and twisting through the stars. Perfectly functional until the Generals trash it again. There’re 104 necessary forms for a destroyed fleet ship. With two leading clones did they have to fill out 52 forms each or with two Generals did they have to fill out 104 forms each as they crashed twice as often?

Brash as always, Fives interrupted my thoughts, “which hanger was it again?”

“Which hanger? Main bay section 2.” Rolling my eyes, I lead my mentally challenged brother down the corridor. I really didn’t want to do this. No one on this entire ship wanted to do this. Apparently, for the _war_ effort, we had to pose for these dramatic holos. That in itself was fine. However, the holos taken on battlefields where we wouldn’t have to do anything besides not die, were all done. The Wolfpack, 91 st and 327th had actions shots and now we and the 212th were stuck posing with fog machines and lighting to sit. And sit. And pose. For hours. I strongly believe that Hardcase will plant a bomb somewhere so we can boot the holographer of the ship for their own safety. Glancing to the left, I watch Fives acting exuberantly. He probably helped. Or suggested the idea. He starts whistling. He did it. He full on did it there will be fire alarms soon.  

 

In the hanger is a sea of disgruntled faces great us with the dramatic overtones of do we have to with the standard ribbing of returning troopers. Especially ones with promotions.

“Alright! We will have group shots of the entire battalion and then the Jedi with a few select clones, their personal followers.” Why was this reporter so loud and jumpy? Go to the 554th, they were jumpy.

“Aw surwearoe, that means Torrent and Downpour have to stay.” Hardcase whined as the rest of us laughed at him, even if we shared his fate.

“Indeed, and Hardcase,” General Skywalker tossed a bag lazily making Hardcase fumble, “nice try.”

Surging around the bag there were groans as each and every bomb was artfully destroyed.

Bugger.

“If we have to do it then so do you.” Other General moaned.

“Really sir? Like the mission on Mon Cala?” Appo sassed. His General wacked him.

“Myself and Downpour provided tactical moral support.”

“Dry and inside the ship, sir.”

“I don’t do wet. Or any kind of water.” The irony of her company being called _Downpour_ was not lost on any there.

“Corse not sir, nor do you do cold, ice, vegetables or sand.” Oz chimed in.

“Or listening, hearing aids and regulations,” Chopper helpfully added.

“Ani! The boys are picking on me,” called the General, pouting; turning to her brother for support.

“Well what you expect me to do?” he called back, ignoring the curious look of the journalists.

Unfortunately, we could not ignore journalists. They seemed fascinated by our paint jobs on our armour. Especially those of a higher rank. Meaning myself Fives, Downpour and Torrent were stuck being front and centre of every single stupid holo.

Frankly, I was bored to tears. Becoming an ARC trooper they said, its brilliant they said. Yeah, my first mission stand and stand and do nothing. I think Hardcase has fallen asleep standing up. And Tup. _And_ Jesse? Was this something they taught Torrent while we were away? I glance over at Fives who is also fast asleep. Maybe I just missed the meeting.

 

Eventually, the journalists release the rest of the 501st. And the cowards flee. On one hand I’d rather they stayed here with us, on the other I don’t really want them to be laughing.

And they would definitely be laughing, because there is a bloody smoke machine.

“So Torrent on the left and Downpour on the right?” My Skywalker called and with much grumbling we got into place.

“Torrent on the left,” I repeated steering Fives to the correct location. Because obviously having a smoke machine wasn’t enough, all having to sit on top of speeders; trying to be as dramatic as possible.

Dramatics will promptly be ruined by our commander leaping into the small gap between myself and Fives.

“Excuse me generals but why are there so many clones on the left?” A nosy journalist asked.

“Because Ahsoka tends to fight with us on the ground and she needs a lot of people to keep out of trouble,” our general blithely answered as he flopped next to Rex.

“I do not!” was the indignant cry.

“Yes you do you commander,” both Fives and I say the same time; although perhaps I was a little, just a second, after him. I do not echo.

 

At least her grumbling makes the other smile.

And that I think was my favourite holo that was taken. The one where we’ve all got our helmets off, lounging around on a bunch of speeders, laughing. It’s not the one they use mind because that undermined war effort, but it’s certainly the one that’s kept in the barracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surwearoe shit


	13. Oz, Downpour Company, Do I have to say it’s the 501st we all know Downpour is 501st—er, (CT-5656)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title, Citadel ouchy time

 

Keep your head down solider. Stay low and keep your head down. Stay near the General and watch the flank. This rescue wasn’t working as well as hoped. The Citadel was a perfect prison which makes breaking in and out of it difficult. We’ve lost five men so far, Charger set the wall of letting the Separatists know we were here. We’ve lost more brothers since then. Managed to save a few officers, but they’re injured and Coric is fussing. One officer has a broken rib is being particularly henned by the medic. I keep turning to make a joke to Ringo but he’s not here. It was decided by the Generals he had to stay behind.

At the time I wished Ringo could come with; this was a ridiculously dangerous mission and if I was running it I wanted him with me. Yet, having been in this hell-hole for more than necessary, I am so happy that he’s not here. Instead he’s safe with Appo because someone has to be in charge of the 501st while we’re gone. But, when the other general went up to the ceiling because of his hand, Ringo… With his leg and fingers, he would have been badly electrocuted. And unlike Skywalker, he wouldn’t have been able to shrug it off. He would have been slower at the very least. And any that fall behind don’t make it. Or race ahead.

Poor Echo. We’ll mourn him when we’re off this rock. And we’re getting off this rock. I’m getting back to Ringo. So, keep your head down solider.

 

“Chopper, right side?”

“All clear.”

“Oz, left side?”

“Great, let’s keep it that way.” Hand never leaving her weapon, the general prowled around the back, eyes weary.

I really hope that it does stay this way, let’s not lose anymore brothers. Please.   

An ear-piercing howl reradiated off the stone walls. They’re getting closer.

“Those creatures are gaining,” Fives called.

“If they have caught our scent, they’ll lead the droids right to us,” General Piell scowled, every turn and we falter.

“We’re gonna have to deal with them” replied the other general, surveying for an ambush point.

Doing the same our commander asked, “what about using this cave to surprise them?”

“If we can get them to pass by, we can attack them from behind, but we need a distraction.”

“Leave that to us” the generals smirked at the same time. 

“Uh-hum”

“And Obi-wan of course.” Nodding the three peeled off, racing to cover us. Little gods let them race back too.

“Okay, the rest of you follow me.” Follow General Piell, stick by Chopper, Coric and Rex, watch our commander and keep your head down solider.

Spider bots leap over the sides and it’s a fire fight again. Chopper and I dive behind cover, taking turns to fire to preserve ammunition. We don’t have any to spare. Under Piell’s orders we keep going, sprinting hard. If it weren’t for our buckets the whole planet would hear what a mess we are. Trained for endurance; but even for a clone there’s a limit. The only break our aching ribs get is when we stop to shoot or die. An officer without a blaster saves Tarkin who takes some droids down. I can’t hear anything but my ragged breathing and blaster fire. The blaster is warm. Rapid fire causes that.

“Oz, we’re good, come on vod.” Coric gently pulls me up by the arm; Chopper placing a hand on my back. There’s a figure approaching. Coric had to push my blaster down when our commander came into view. Carrying General Piell.

“He died honourably.” No, don’t let this all be for nothing.

Appearing from nowhere the other general stared down despondently at the corpse. “What about the information?”

“I have. He told me just before he died.” Thank Force this wasn’t for nothing.

Stepping forward, my general looked between the fallen Jedi and the fallen clone. “We don’t have much time but let us make sure the Separatist can’t touch them.” Its more than we can do for the others we’ve lost.” The bodies are lifted and submerged in lava; a funeral fit for an honourable Jedi and a good brother. More than what we’ll get if we stay.  

 

We keep walking. Meander around the spikes that appear randomly in the path, just another step. Avoid overhead spikes that appear randomly.

“There’s the extraction point!” Commander Cody and the general fire cables across allowing Tarkin and Rex to cross. Of course Cody would have Rex cross first. Even before his General.

“Incoming!” Another squadron of B1s flying towards us.

Chopper and I push Coric and our commander towards the wire. “Go! We’ll cover you!” Their led by the head bastard themselves. The blaster’s warm again. I take down two, Chopper hits the one I miss. Cody and his General is across.

“Chopper, Oz, go,” other general barks, “we’ll cover.”

“But- “

“Go Oz! Cover us when we cross!” My general yells, deflecting bolts left right and centre. The heat has been oppressive the entire time we’ve been on this planet. But inches from lava, it, well, truly hit me in the face. The rope is burning through my gloves and the paint on my helmet is peeling. Thankfully as soon as I was close enough to the edge Coric was haling me up. And the Generals jump over the pit, still deflecting bolts.  We’re being pushed further back. If not for the _jetii_ we’d be very dead. Keep your head down solider; there are too many bolts to survive.

Over the clanks there’s humming. But sweet Force I know that hum. Republic ships come to get our sorry _shebs_ off this planet.

Yet, despite General Koon’s timely arrival it seems unlikely that we would make it out alive. We were under so much fire. As we hurried to the transport, tossing our commander in, we made a terrible mistake. We turned our backs to the enemy. And they took advantage.

Chopper and my general went down. The others had boarded. The general’s screams were the background of a horror story. Fragments of smoke curled from them.

But not me.

And not them. Trapped in the ship unable to leave. Held back from the fallen by the living.

Keep your head down solider…

But I’m not in the ship.

So, no, I don’t look up at the ship, I look down at my vod’e. Because sweet Force they still breathe. Head down, I dodge a few bolts and kneel between them. Chopper’s leg isn’t meant to look like that. Not like Ringo’s when the casing is gone. But he’s swearing a blue streak so he’s responsive. She’s not. But the wounds are non-vital.

“Oz! Give me your buir-tahla’ada blaster!” Hand flailing he lunged for it.

“But-“ but you’d only need it for cover fire. Only need it if your going out blazing.

“Take her and go!” I can’t see his face. I don’t know what look is in his mis-matched eyes. Yet I imagine it; for although Chopper always looks smug/grumpy/cocky; his voice is desperate.

One last request. I take her and go. Head down.

Whilst the real solider dies screaming bloody defiance looking up. Staring death in the eye and greeting it with fire.

 

Ringo has been curled around me for however long we’ve hidden in the barracks. Torrent, Downpour, the whole bloody lot of the 501st crammed in. When the _jetii_ stagger in, no one notices. What are three more bodies?

At least they brought drinks.

Clearing his throat, Rex called out; “Ret’urcye mhi ni vod'e,” covering his tight voice with a generous swig. Not quite as much as Fives; has he spoken yet?

“Ni malyasa'yr partaylir gar,” Appo finished for him.

Faintly I heard, “nobata bo owns mah patogga besh namily, guard lo wedd as uba keekah soh nreedom.”

Ringo pressed his lips to my temple. I hope this is as bad as it gets.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jetii jedi  
> shebs asses   
> vod'e brothers/sisters -- technically gender neutral so here it means brother and sister   
> buir-tahla’ada mother-fucking  
> Ret’urcye mhi ni vod'e Goodbye my brothers  
> Ni malyasa'yr partaylir gar I will remember you   
> nobata bo owns mah patogga besh namily, guard lo wedd as uba keekah soh nreedom nobody owns my heart but family, guard it well as you journey on to freedom


	14. CT-9671 /nickname/ Dogma, standard Trooper; Torrent Company, within the 501st clone Battalion serving under joint Generals Anakin and Amelia Skywalker.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ni malyasa'yr partaylir gar I will remember you   
> nobata bo owns mah patogga besh namily, guard lo wedd as uba keekah soh nreedom nobody owns my heart but family, guard it well as you journey on to freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title; Umbara sucks bitches

 

I shuffled up the ramp. Most had told me that they would have done the same. But they hadn’t, I did. I was going back to Kamino for this. They were going to decommission me. Or run labs to see why I had betrayed a Jedi. Again and again thoughts of Krell’s taunting raced around. That we were just clones. We weren’t! And we’re not traitors! I had been, no, was proud of my service under General Skywalker. I had been a part of Anakin Skywalker’s Torrent company. They could decommission me, but I would be proud of my service.  

The General burst through the hanger doors. Clutching a large sack his eyes swept through the room. Tup placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I only slightly lent into the support. If this was the end, I want them to see I didn’t break. Maybe I could later, yeah, they’d put me in a cell and I could break there.

“Dogma!” Skywalker charged towards me. Practically growling he ripped off my helmet. It took considerable will power to not flinch. But, my General must have sensed the fear pumping through my veins.

A gentle hand rested on my shoulder. “You have no reason to trust me Dogma. But I need you to change. Quickly. You don’t have much time.” Could I, after everything trust him; he left us to _Krell_. The monster who killed my brothers!

That I followed. 

That I _helped_.

But this was _my_ General, not Krell. Stripping my armour, I watched as General Skywalker pulled out more armour? Shiny and quickly made to not look like it. Muddy splashes and a few blaster burns.

As I quickly attached the greaves the general smeared every inch of my tattoo to look like I merely had a non-standard haircut. Voices crept in from the corridor, loud and abrasive as the general shoved my helmet on hiding the among the ranks. My other General was screaming at Appo about my desertion?

“And how could you let a Jedi murderer escape! I trusted you to maintain order instead I find half a Battalion and the replacement Jedi dead! I shall seriously be considering your continued position as my commander.” The hanger doors hissed open with the other General, commander and two long necks entering.

My general’s face shifted from calm to rage in an instant. Was it hard, the genuinely feeling calm for me because he always felt rage. Fairly certain that there is more rage in the Skywalkers than what was in the entire Jedi order; but that rage kept us alive half the time. And now Skywalker was roaring at Rex demanding to know how we could have lost a member of his own company. It was surreal. If we weren’t wearing buckets I think everyone would have jaws gracing the floor. When the pair were done ranting the long necks took my armour; my armour was one of the things I had and they took it and taken it-

Gone. They’ve taken my armour and they think I’ve gone. General Skywalker didn’t stay for long. Looks like she’s on the verge of tears and leaves faster than she entered. My general has put a steadying hand on my shoulder again. Didn’t realise I’m shaking. Helmet off again with blue eyes boring into mine. There’s tears there too.

“We’ve got a plan” he murmurs, “Ami cashed in a favour; you can’t stay here. And you can’t run, they’ll hunt you down.” I nod, unable to trust my words. I’m a traitor now. They’ll decommission me. They’ll-

“Hey, hey vod. It’ll be alright. We’ll make it alright. You’ll not be decommissioned.” He pulls me into a hug. He continues to reassure me as I break down into tears.

The next few hours are a blur. I stay away from the others as much as I can. I keep expecting Hardcase to burst in, or Ringo to start singing a ridiculous song. Eventually, I do the same as every other brothers who survived Umbara, make my down to the cargo bay look at the sea of dead. The Generals refused to have their bodies burned on Umbara. Thought it better to give a different resting place.

Hesitant with my every step, I entered the cargo bay. The stench that greets me; mud, blood and whatever else dragged back from the surface covering misshapen bodies (parts missing); makes my eyes water so much that I don’t even notice her first. One living among the dead bent, as if in prayer over a helmet.

“General”

My voices is far more horse than it could have been.

“Hello Dogma”, she spoke barely above a whisper; as if anything louder would be disrespectful. As I make away over I realise she’s sitting between Ringo and Oz.

_Ringo is staring blankly up, blast wound in his chest. Cut down by a brother, for nothing. A wasted life._

_The distant screams of Oz cut off short as a lightsabre sliced his head clean from his body. Racing into the fray screaming for vengeance. His was quicker than many of the other deaths received._

“Sir, I, I am so sorry, it was my fault he killed so many. I shouldn’t, should have trusted my brothers and they’re dead.” Dead. Because of Dogma. Following orders like a good little solider.

“Dogma”, her voice cut through my frantic rambling thoughts. Still holding the helmet she motioned me to sit next to her.

Sighing she supposed, “Krell was going to do this whether everyone followed him or stood against him. Even if you wanted to- “

“But I should have…”

“What you didn’t do can’t be undone. Be proud of what you did. You killed him; revenge may not be the Jedi way, but I think your brothers will be glad that he was taken down.”

I nod, I don’t fully believe her. However, unlike Krell, my generals have never lied to me or led us astray.

“Sir, thank you. General Skywalker said you traded in a favour from Koon. I’m disposable, replaceable, should be among the dead, not sitting here. But, thank you.”

 There was a whack on my shoulder. We all know our general’s opinion on our disposable nature.

“We’ll smuggle you into the 104th. You’ll have to change the tattoo or use make-up. Changing your hair to probably buy some time. Remember Commander Wolffe? I saved him from decommission by making his eye. Life for a life I suppose.” One life amongst all of this.

Her eyes have left those helmet; the edge burned from ‘sabre.

“Ni malyasa'yr partaylir gar” I offer she nods holding my hand with her own.

“Nobata bo owns mah patogga besh namily,” she murmurs from next to me.

“Guard lo wedd as uba keekah soh nreedom.” General Skywalker finish from behind us. He sat down and placed a hand on my shoulder.

The next day we caught up with the 104th and I discreetly slipped into their ranks. I spared one glance over my shoulder at the only two Jedi I would ever trust.

As we marched away I didn’t know the last time I’d ever see them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ni malyasa'yr partaylir gar I will remember you   
> nobata bo owns mah patogga besh namely nobody owns my heart but family   
> guard lo wedd as uba keekah soh nreedom guard it well as you journey on to freedom


	15. Trooper Tup of Torrent, 501st (the best) clone battalion, (CT-5385).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING DISCUSSIONS OF RAPE IN THIS CHAPTER! IT DOESN'T HAPPEN BUT IF YOU ARE SENSATIVE TO SUCH A TOPIC PLEASE DO NOT READ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Origional working title; who's dumbass idea was this?  
>  … Kenobi? That makes sense

 

There were far too many bodies in the room, but with three battalions/ four generals worth of first Companies. To make it worse I had the mother of all headaches. This thing had been a near-constant for weeks. Maybe Kix and Coric will give me some pain killers if I ask nicely.

However, I was not focusing on my throbbing temple. The mission brief was as simple as it was disgusting. A slave empire run by a Queen had taken control of multiple planets. And it was very likely that the Kiros people that mysteriously vanished had been taken by this empire. My stomach curdles. It was a settlement; those poor kids they didn’t deserve that. Currently the generals are discussing the plan to save those poor people.

“…and therefore we will have Ahsoka sneaking in as a slave which-“

“Wait, wait, wait,” my general interrupted, “you _will have_ the underage padawan sneaking into a slaver hold? I forbid it.”

No kriffing way she were going. The Commander got taken by Trandoshans and they just wanted to kill her, slavers… slavers would be far worse.

“But the Togrutan people are in high demand at the moment. She’d be perfect sneaking-“                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

“I said no. As her Master I have the right to say no to anything I believe will harm her and she’s not going.” He stood defensively between the Commander and the other General; myself and the rest of Torrent mimicking his body language.

“Anakin you’re turning this into something personal,” general Kenobi butted in, “Ahsoka herself is able to perform admirably and be quite capable.”

“Master please, I can do this!”

My general’s stance went from defensive to aggressive. He began to prowl around the Commander; eyeing her up like a piece of meat.

“Young, pretty, exotic colouring,” his hand trailed down her leku making her shiver, “famous Jedi, certainly worth quite a bit of money.”

“You’re forgetting the most important thing, the other general said; grabbing the Commander’s chin forcing her to look up, “she’s fresh. She’s young and pretty with no obvious scars. Exotic but wonderfully untouched. How much do you think someone would pay to take everything from her?” She turned from her padawan to her brother.

“All that and being a Jedi? 750, resale around 650. How does that feel Ahsoka? 750,000 Hut credits for somebody to rape you. That’s what they’re doing to slaves right now. You’re not going.” The general’s words were final. Fives and Jesse pulled her towards them. Blatantly ignoring the other generals they comforted her. I would have joined in if I weren’t silently daring some 104th boys to comment. 

Kneeling down before her, he spoke gently, “Snips, one day you will be a Knight and you will face enslaved people in desperate and terrifying situations who will need your help. But for right now, it is Amelia and I’s job to keep you safe. If you go we can’t protect you. We know what we’re going in to. Please stay behind with the men. Okay?”

Sniffing she nodded, before yanking both her masters into a tight hug.

“What about you?” she twisted to face the other general.

“Me? A former slave, visible scarring, standard Tatooine human and not that pretty, and not untouched.” The last was muttered under her breath. As if anyone thought that she didn’t sleep in a different bed every night.

“Half the Senator’s handmaidens can confirm that.” My general murmured, gasping dramatically as the sister elbowed him in the ribs. It did its job and startled a laugh out the Commander.

“Point being ‘Soka, even with me being a Jedi and having survived this as a child, people will only really buy me for resale; 1.4 maybe 1.5 if it’s Separatists.”

“Yeah, around that,” my general confirmed.

“This is unnecessary, and nothing will happen to Ahsoka and we need her to infiltrate,” general Kenobi butted in.

“Perhaps the Skywalkers know what they are talking about,” General Koon moderated.

“We still need someone to infiltrate, we had the outfit prepared.”

“I’m sorry, what? You had Ahsoka’s outfit prepared before; a, asking her, b, asking us and, c, considering there were other options?” The other general looks ready to blow a fuse. Coric is half reaching for his blaster, as is Rex for that matter. My general retook a defensive stance.

“It was necessary for the mission.” Kenobi had the gall to act as their being unreasonable. Most of the 212th nodded, but a few (Cody) tried to disagree without utterance.

“I can’t believe that you’re actually surprised that the Togruta padawan and two ex-slaves might find this mission personal? I find it disgusting the council would approve this, but you?” She looked devastated. “Just go. You don’t give a damn about this and you don’t understand why this might be an issue. So we can do this without you, goodbye General Kenobi.”

I’ll give him this, he stood his ground. “Amelia, that’s not a decision you can make.”

“Get the kriff off my ship.” Deadly intent blazed in her eyes.

Kenobi countered, “you two need the 212th.”

“We don’t need anything from you, if Master Koon decides he doesn’t want to help then we’ll do it ourselves,” she snapped.

“You have my support with this mission.” His deep voice cut through the angry bickering in the room.

“Anakin,” Both turned to my General looking for support. Like Kenobi would get it. The twin generals were doing the eyebrow conversation thing.

Sighing, my general moved to stand by his sister, “with the 104th we have enough resources to rescue these people ourselves. Just go.”

Outnumbered, Kenobi left the bridge. I joined in on the jeering. Rude gestures were exchanged, and Fives tripped one of their Arcs up. Only their Commander left with grace, a sombre nod to the generals and his fellow Commanders.

“Alright boys, we’ve got a mission to run. Let’s get down to business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kriffing fucking  
> kriff fuck


	16. Trooper Jesse, (5597), Torrent Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title; Kenobi you dick!!!

 

The fistfight started precisely 3 minutes after it was revealed on the freaking holonet that general Kenobi faked his death and was in fact alive as a bounty hunter. And unsurprisingly the fistfight has started out when someone said, ‘clearly the general did the right thing’. Kriff no. Because there is no tahla’ada way my Generals were faking it. Damned Kenobi, letting everyone who gives a kark about you think you’re dead just so you can sell it. And no it wasn’t okay, especially when it’s my generals who were freaking bawling their eyes out when they didn’t think anyone could see or hear them. The same with my Commander (my still fairly shiny Commander whose leku haven’t grown that much which was it is apparently a sign of development).

I wasn’t even sorry for Longshots broken jaw. It takes the Wolfpack and the 41st combined to break up the fight. Wolffe is having to physically restrain Kix; whilst Gree and Sinker holding Cody by the collar/ in a headlock.

“If the general did it he clearly did it for the right reasons! Don’t get to suggest his honour was tarnished. Skywalkers’s too attached anyway.” I cannot be held accountable for punching that di’kut in the head as well.

I get a black eye over the second fight. By the time that fight is also over (and half of the 501st and two thirds of the 212th are in the medbay) my general has to pick me up from lock up.

“Jesse did you seriously start a second fight?” my general looks really, really worn.

“Yes sir.”

He exhaled slowly. “Why?”

“Because they were saying you were attached like it was a bad thing.”

Ignoring my comment, he deactivated the cell. “Come on Jesse, lets get you to the barracks.”

Nice of him to give me a shoulder to lean on, I think the knee is busted. On the walk to the barracks I get a good look at my General. 

“So are you all right?” My words startled the General, but he takes a moment to consider it instead of brushing me off; “ I’m happy he’s alive but I wish he could have done in a different way. Says he was ordered to by the council but the same time you can always say no. He chose to take that mission and he willingly chose to not inform us after the funeral.”

“I’m sorry sir.” The squeeze could very easily be passed off as moving to support my weight. “Thank you, Jesse.”

 

In the barracks everyone is buzzing. Apparently, the other General had a shouting match with both the council and her former master. Commander Tano, curled on a bunk, is currently informing us of the temple wide screaming.

“And then they suggested he should jump off a cliff and die because no one would want to hold a second funeral and quite conveniently his funeral stone was still up. So no one would notice.”

“That was hours ago,” Skywalker muttered, eyebrows creased with worry. He nodded to the commander, “did you hear, apparently she could be heard in the hanger. Amelia was giving them a blow by blow while screaming and cussing at Obi-wan. I do not think she’s gonna forgive them for this.”

“And you sir?” Rex queried, mindful of his split lip. I think Boil gave him that.

A deep sigh. “No I don’t think I’m going to forgive him either. I don’t think I can trust him, the trust is gone.” So’s the fire from my general eyes. It burns on the battlefield, it burned when he could bring Hardeen to justice but no it’s gone. Looks bloody vulnerable. Kriff you Kenobi. Everything you do now is all a lie.

Rex and Kix bully Skywalker into a bunk. I discreetly com the Senator (good lady that Senator) so she can help keep an eye on my General. She arrives in rather plain garb with the other general. No one comments on the fact that she smells like whiskey. The two ladies just get pulled in to the clone pile on the floor as we try to pretend the last three weeks never happened. I really wish they never happened.

 

The next mission with the 212th is conducted perfectly. Minimum communication and minimum contact between the generals. Kenobi doesn’t even look a little bit remorseful, whilst Cody, Appo and Rex argue about ‘it’ (one still sporting a swollen nose) I hunker down with Kix in the medbay. Because if anyone is going to stupidly blame themselves its him. 

No patients, good. “Weren’t your fault Kix.”

Slamming his hand down the table he stares at me like I just stabbed him.

“Of course, it was my fault. I am the medic. I should have checked I should have asked to do something.”

“For the records Kix, you’re not the 212th medic, Helix is. And he did all that and they refused to let him do it. Come on love, you’re taking it as bad as the generals.”

He doesn’t laugh. “Okay.” Nuzzling into his neck I wrap my arms around is scrawny waist. He needs to eat more. “It won’t be the same now, will it?”

“I don’t think it will be.” Hasn’t been the same since Umbara, it’s just been getting worse.

Sighing he shifted to hug me. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Yeah, me to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tahla’ada fucking  
> kark shit  
> di'kut idiot


	17. Commander Wolffe, leader of the Wolfpack and 104th Clone Battalion under General Plo Koon (CC-3636)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title; ya dun fucked up

 

79’s is a perfect place for cheap beer and distractions. Unfortunately, neither are doing their job at the moment. There is not enough beer and certainly not enough noise to drown out my thoughts.  I honestly don’t know why I even tried. Deep down I really doubt Commander Tano was responsible, but orders were orders and we were ordered to bring her in. She kicked me in the head and was found with Ventress. Doesn’t that make the Commander guilty. At the thought of the pair both my bruised jaw and scar throb. Plus, with the ammunition they were found with, she’s clearly suitable for trial. There was no actual way they would executed a Jedi though, this is merely a formality.

I knock back a few more shots.

A pounding head is not a good enough reason to not see this through. The trial is far too public and doesn’t that make the truth worse. From the get-go it’s clear. This is not about been guilty, nor is it about being innocent. This is about putting a Jedi on trial because they can. My snarl makes quite a few clones around me jump. I’m not called Wolffe for nothing.

“Former Padawan Tano, I shall prove that you were the mastermind behind the attack on the Jedi Temple. That once your accomplices carried out your orders, you eliminated them one-by-one. When you are found guilty, I ask the court that the full extent of the law be brought down upon you, including penalty of death!"

They were actually going to kill her. Yes the evidences warranted a trial but it was circumstantial at best. Senator Amidala began her defence and what occurred before us was a played out back and forth.

They’ve already decided. This is just a show. Amidala is trying her damn best but this is a parse; they’re gonna kill her. My stomach sinks, I’ve just got the kid killed.

They’re delivering the penalty. Would buir try to fight this?

“Wait!” A team of sentinels led by the 501st’s Generals.

“I hope there is a good reason for interrupting us, Generals?” No shit; there’s a team of Sentinels; that’s always a damn good reason.

“We do. I present to you the real culprit; Barriss Offee” The young Commander was thrust forward. This will kill Gree.

“I did it. Because I’ve come to realise what many people in the Republic have come to realise, that the Jedi are the ones responsible for this War. That we’ve so lost or way that we have become villains in this conflict, that we are the ones that should be put on trial, all of us!” She began raising in volume, becoming more aggressive, “And my attack on the Temple was an attack on what the Jedi have become: an army fighting for the dark side, fallen from the Light that we once held so dear. This Republic is failing! It’s only a matter of time.”

Every vod had a different reaction. Some with disgust, others with relief. Tano’s a good Commander. Buir’s findling. She’ll be alright. But I do not feel relief. She worked with the witch that took my eye, my _vod’e_. I’m not forgiving her for that. Still, I do not want her death on my shoulders. I’d never be able to look Rex or Appo in the eye ever again.

 

The General greeted the Wolfpack in a subdued manner. Walking slowly with his head bowed, we know things have not gone well. Curled in on himself he does not look like a prominent Jedi leader or High General. Just someone who’s lost a dear friend.

“You should know, as it will be passed through the ‘net, that Ahsoka Tano has decided to not re-join the Jedi Order or the army. She is now a civilian. As you were.”

Dutiful as a shadow I follow ner buir to his chambers. No doubt there was more.

“Sir, how are you?” He flopped into his chair.

“She’s left. Master Windu phrased it as a trial, but she’s gone. We broke her trust and she’s gone.”

Loyalty is everything. On one hand, why have loyalty to a system that let you down, yet where was her loyalty to her men? To her brothers? Where was her loyalty to those who never let her go?

Clawed fingers gripped my shoulder. “Calm ad, such thoughts can change nothing now.” Right, sure.

Both of us sit in silence as before buir’s deep tones breaks it.

“I do believe we are heading towards the end.”

“The end, sir?” I venture.

“We have betrayed a promising young Padawan; with nothing but the clothes on her back,” _clothes on her back?_ “and quite thoroughly destroyed what little trust the young Skywalkers had in the council.” Deep in thought he added, “I do believe we have sent ourselves down a darker path.”

I leave him when he falls into meditation and send a Commander-wide alert.

_Tano without supplies; provide accordingly._

She may have left us, betrayed us, but vod’e look after each other. Can’t have a Commander out there with nothing. It’d make us no better than the Senate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ner buir my dad (mom/parent, buir is gender neutral)


	18. Rex. Torrent/501st.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original working title, Fives' sad death

 

We’d chased Fives to the dock area of this sector. It was a desperate race to get to him before the Guard got him. They’d kill him. We needed to get to him first. We had to. We’ve lost Echo and Hardcase, Dogma was in hiding and Tup… was a part of this somehow. There was no way he’d just snap. Besides, who’d believe what the long necks say anyway? Certainly not any self-respecting vod.

No, there was more to this. And we had to save Fives.  We can’t lose any more of us.

We can’t.

Kix said that he’d be here, in a warehouse.

As if sensing my thoughts, the general murmured, “Well, these are the coordinates that Kix gave us. Let’s hope he’s here.”

“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” I mutter, this is not a good place for a meeting. Better suited for an ambush.

Walking in the General began calling out to Fives, using his ‘sabre as a flashlight. Most advance piece of weaponry, focus solider.

A voice echoed around the ware house, “General Skywalker. Thank you, thank you for trusting me. Have you come without troops?”

We had, the other Skywalker was leading the guard on a wild goose chase; the men assisting.

“We have.”

“Put down your weapons then!”

“I don’t think so Fives,” he replied, moving to be back to back with me.

“Please sir!” Fives demanded, “please, I’m unarmed.”

A single nod and he deactivated his ‘sabre, smoothly clipping it to his belt.

Moving to a nearby table I hold my pistols high, so that wherever he’s hiding he can see them, “Alright, I’m putting my pistols down.”

“What are we here for Fives?”

Moving further in we heard, “I need your help.”

Reassuringly, Skywalker replied, “I know you do, we know you’re not well, it’s been rough for you these past couple of days.”

“I’m not crazy!” he screamed, rushed in his desperation to defend himself. We’re getting closer to the source of his voice now. Soon we’ll be able to pinpoint it. “Please, please, just hear what I have to say.” Got it, a small trail of light leading to a different section of the warehouse.

Moving towards it, Skywalker tried to pacify Fives, “we’re here to help you Fives, just come with us, let us take you back to the Temple.”

A blinding flash of light halted us as we were ensnared in a ray shield. In anger he smashed his fist into the shield. But now Fives came out. His hair was gone, wearing shiny armour and moving like a dead man.

“I just need you to listen to me, please!” He was begging now.

“I’m not really sure if we have any other choice!”

“I was framed! Because I know the truth, the truth about a plot, A massive deception!”

Moving around the General I address Fives directly, “I hear you.”

Fives was shaking hard, his body language, repeating phrases; was he on something? Or, had he been drugged?

“Well there’s a sinister plot in the works against the Jedi,” struggling he kept rambling, “I have proof of it! I can prove that everything I know is true beyond a shadow of a doubt!” Screaming and gesturing wildly he switched in a second when the general questioned him.

“The evidence is, in here” his head? That won’t hold up. Come on Fives, we need a solid defence for you; give us something. “It’s in all of us, every clone.”

What, “What is it?” I demanded.

Exhausted, Fives lent into a crate, “organic chips built into our genetic code; to make us do whatever someone wants. Even kill the Jedi! It’s all in here!”

Clearly the General didn’t believe him trying to placate him.  Rubbing my head, I considered it. If it was in our genetic code then we could scan for it; but it would have been there since birth. As the pair argued I tried again to get Fives calm.

“Fives, we are listening to you, we only want to help.”

“How do I know your not tricking me? How do I know, it won’t be a trap! The Chancellor tried to kill me! I promise you that!”

“The Chancellor?”

Half stooped Fives growled; “he’s in on it, I don’t know to what extent, but I know he orchestrated much of this. He told me in the medical bay.”

“He told you; when you tried to assassinate him. You have gone too far Fives. The Chancellor isn’t capable of what you claim.”

Agitated, Fives replied, “I swear to you General, you have no idea-“

Guards burst into the room, weapons drawn. No! No not now! Cries of stand down were met with Fives’ panicked screams. Desperate he lunged for my pistol. “Get away from me!”

“Fives no!”

As soon as he raised the pistol Fox struck him in the chest. The pistol fell to the floor as desperate, ragged breaths left Fives. He collapsed onto the floor.

“Fives, Fives!” Pounding on the ray shield I distantly heard the general call for it to be taken down. The moment it was, I fell to Fives’ side.

“Fives? Brother,” staring at Fox I yell, “call for help, we need a medic!” Because you shot him you kark-eating piece of-

“Rex” Fives gasped.

“Fives?” don’t let these be your last words. Come on, you’ll pull through.

Gurgling he fought to get his words out. "This...it's...bigger than any of us...than anything...I could've imagined...I never meant to...” as he struggled I held him close, so his words brushed past my ear, “I only wanted to do my duty. The mission...the nightmares...they're...finally...over...."

His head lolled and his eyes closed. “Fives?” I whispered. No, no brother you can’t….

“No Fives, Fives stay with me, stay with me. Fives? Fives don’t go.” He didn’t respond. No twitch, no breath, nothing.

“Oh no…” holding him close, I nearly jumped when the general kneeled beside me, flesh hand on my shoulder, the mechanic on Fives’. The guard surround us.

Fox looks mournful, but ever the practical vod he takes Fives’ body. I go towards him but I am ushered away.

We get a drink.

As we down a glass for Fives I send a message to Kix. I need to arrange a scan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vod brother  
> kark shit


	19. Commander Appo under General Am. Skywalker, 1/3 of Downpour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original title; Revenge of the Sith.  
>  -They can't all be fun titles.

 

Coric and I flanked our General as we marched down the Temple halls. Other Generals would be cheery; Dooku was dead, at her brother’s hand. Getting to see the Commander again (and it was so good to see her again. To see what a capable young woman she is now compared to the bouncy teen. Still, it’s a good thing that Rex has her back). However, this does not make my General smile.

The council in the _infinite_ wisdom has, has decided that placing my other General on the council, _without_ rank, to spy on the Chancellor was a _brilliant_ idea.

She smirked; there must be enough sarcasm in my head for her to hear it. But at least she is smiling now. One arm curled around mine, the other looped with Coric’s, we meander down the Temple steps only to be confronted by kriffing Kenobi.

“Amelia, I wanted a word if possible.” Tahla’ada should just crawl under a clanker and die. Coric’s defensive stance fully informs me that he agrees.

“What word is it this time? It’s yet to be sorry.” No it hasn’t you miauhavr.

“Anakin seems to be fine with it all,” Kenobi snapped.

“This might shock you but I’m not interchangeable with Anakin! What do you want me to say Obi-wan? I’m sorry that your multiple betrayals and emotional manipulations hurt me? That your constant ‘greater good’ mentality hasn’t left Anakin and I crushed? It has!” Throwing her hands up in the air I can practically feel her frustration.

“As a Jedi we must put our duty before emotions,” Kenobi has a look that clearly state _not that you ever learned that_ and I want to punch him, “but that is not why I’m here. I’m off to Utapau soon and I wanted to inform you.”

“Alright, goodbye.”

“Amelia” Kenobi moved forward but Coric and I intercepted that. “What would you have me do? If you think I have done is for the good of the Republic; as any Jedi should be. When will you learn that sacrifices must be made?”

“And when will you learn people are more than kriffing sacrifices? That sometimes you have to be there for the people who have always had your back, and yet you never have theirs when it really counts.”

“I cannot be there for everyone!”

“You are there for no one but the council! Or Satine,” he flinched, “You cared enough for her, a person you knew for a year to abandon every code for her. But for us, your Padawans, you couldn’t give a rat’s arse if we need you!”

Both are panting, fists clenched. He moved to argue further but my general just shakes her head,” you are a great Jedi Kenobi, a pity you will never be a good person.”

And ignoring his spluttering, we walked away. The moment we are out of sight of Kenobi’s glare, we’ve got our arms linked, Coric wrapped an arm around our General.

After a few steading (stuttering) breaths she went back to business. “All right boys, I have no doubt will be sent out on a mission soon, so why not hit the barracks. Get a few hours of kip. Final hugs before we move to the 501st quarters in the Corrasaunt barracks.” Mostly shinies; any of our more experienced men were sent with Rex. The Commander needed to have good people watching her back, but the Generals got us so they’ll be fine.

 

A few hours turn into a few days whilst we have done standard ring around missions but are yet to be sent off planet. We see or generals a couple of times talking quietly (in fact this morning saw them hug before going in opposite directions), and sometimes my general looking harried racing around the Senate. Occasionally with her handmaiden; that I know nothing about; at least _they’re_ subtle. My other general flits between the Chancellor’s and his Senator’s offices. I saw him in the Chancellor’s earlier, I wasn’t expecting him back again so soon.

 

“Execute order 66”

GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS

 

What is this! My body stands without my approval. It’s like being locked behind your own eyes. I can see everything. I can feel everything. But I can’t move. GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS

“The Jedi have been declared traitors to the Republic and are to be executed.”

“Yes sir!” The tra ~~itorgene~~ ral; no way she’d _be a traitor_ and are certainly not a hope in hell that my other general would be agreeing to her trigger being pulled.

GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS

Are the others are stuck in the same hell; trying to stop a bodies from marching on the Temple. It’s getting hazy around the edges. If I don’t think, will the Solider take over?

The thrum of sabres cannot stop the drum of the march. Traitors are eliminated. No hiding or pleading will prevent the child ~~ren trait~~ ors from being eradicated.

 

 ~~Coric~~ CM-2564 and I are sent away from the main body of the group; guarding the hangers should any try to escape.           

“Appo? What’s going on!”

GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS no GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS…stop, please… GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERSGOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS GOOD SOLIDERS FOLLOW ORDERS

The traitor comes running over, several other traitors trailing after her. There is the tiniest of shakes in CM-2564 hand as he reaches with his blaster. But it is unnecessary. My blaster is drawn and a single shot at close quarters is all that is needed to dispatch the traitor.

“Appo?” She’s staring at me, blood spilling from her lips, eyes flicking to CM-2564. Fear stills into rage as the traitor ignites her blade. The others move to hide behind her. A foolish one lifts his weapon.

There is no hiding. My Lord has no time for traitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tahla’ada fucker  
> miauhavr git
> 
>  
> 
> Merry Christmas to all, and I'll fuck y'all tonight!  
>  -Amelia Skywalker, in the Senate Building, probably 
> 
> Seriously though, MERRY CHRISTMAS! Or whatever holiday it is when you're reading this.


	20. Ama’lea Skaeewakah, Shimi'z oaughtah, General of the 501st Clone Battalion and Jedi Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the beginning of the End!   
> Original working title; so sad, Artoo play despacito 
> 
> So, anyone want a part 2?

 

The temple was burning. I could hear the screams of every Jedi within it echoing horribly through once magnificent halls. I had absolutely no idea how the Separatists had managed to get past the Corrasaunt fleet but; they had. Judging by the blaster’s fire they have bought every droid they had to defeat us but there was no way a bunch of clankers could get past the Order. I commed for help, the 501st would come, my vod’e would come and will turn the tide together. It was near the end, that’s what I kept repeating as I ran down past bodies of children. _Bo bu norce, smadd nires._

There was a shrill cry of panic. I’ve been told every Jedi experiences the Force differently, we all interpret people’s signatures differently. For me it’s been a melody with each being having their own unique notes, currently its near breaking my ear drums in a deafening, depressing orchestra. Slowing, I focus on it. Not a scream of dying, but a plea in the Force, _younglings._ Changing directions I take down a guard. It, no, he. Not a droid. Why would the guard be attacking?

A bolt sang in warning to which I dodge and take down the attacker. Focusing, I carefully open up the door, no clones.

But there is shuffling. “Master Skywalker?” A youngling came out from under the desk. Others came out from several hiding places throughout the classroom. “There’s too many of them, what are we going to do?”

Each one had such wide eyes, fear palpable. “Its going to be alright. I’ve called for reinforcements, but my priority is you right now. We’re going to go down to the auxiliary hangers, there’s old passage ways we can take. Then we’re going to get off world and await the outcome.” Out the corner of my eye I can see that one is a little taller than the others.

Whilst the others seemed reassured, he bit his lip. “What’s your name kid?”

“Zett, um, Padawan Jukassa. My master told me to stay here.” I know that outside this door there are three corpses. I only put two there.

Now’s not the time. “What he said was a good thing, he wanted to keep you safe. Now I need your help to protect these younglings. Okay?”

He nodded slowly, “yes master.”

Good. “Okay, now you all have to listen to me. You have to do everything I say. When I say run, you run. Stop, you stop.” I’ll have to tell them. “Some of you may die. I’m going to try my best to save you all, but I cannot guarantee your safety.”

One youngling giggled. “Do or do not, there is no try.”

“Yes, “I pat her skullcap. “We are going now.”

Luck or Force had it that when we reached the statue non saw us. Myself and the Wookie youngling lift it up, allowing the others to slip in, then ourselves.

There was a great deal of dust dragged up by their running. Yet to learn stealth I see. They’ve slowed in the light cast by a floor grate. Foolish kids, wait…

“Backup, slowly around the, it now.” The grate above us is a ghastly sight. Several younglings have fallen, and not to quick deaths. The living’s timid footsteps seem crass compared to the gentle drip of blood.

Each seemed on the edge of tears. “Its alright Byph, we’re getting out of here.” The padawan comforts one sobbing youngling. Each eventually make it to the end.

“Okay, now we’re going to run strait for the hanger now okay?” Several too young faces nod in agreement. “Zett, I need you to take the rear.”

“Yes Master.”

Going into a sprint, we cover the vast corridor quickly, four ships, good. Oh thank Force, two troopers in 501st near the entrance to the hangers. I recognise them immediately; Coric and Appo.

Racing towards them I called out, “Appo what’s going on-“

Blue slammed into my stomach. Pain seared every nerve creating nothing but the agony of the blaster bolts in my stomach. My knees buckled underneath me hitting cold relentless stone. “Appo?”, vod? Please, why? I choke as blood dribbles down my lips. Coric doesn’t even spare me a glance. Both just stare, raising their blaster again.

_Why?_

Well, fine.

I ignite my sabre and prepare to fight. Zett behind me follows suit. “Kids, RUN!”

Coric and Appo fire whilst we cover. It allows the younglings to move past and with our pushing, we circle them; opening the hanger wide open.

We let them push us back. I, I don’t want to hurt them. One hand pushed deep into my gut, I used the other to push Coric over the hanger ledge. He should be fine. He’s survived larger falls. Unfortunately, Appo takes advantage and blasts my _kriffing_ arm. 

Swearing a storm, Zett covers whilst I force my right arm to hold my stomach and take up fighting with my left. Blood sizzles as it drips down the sabre. I send Appo flying back but the _kriffer_ called for backup.

Step backwards, Zett and I desperately try to hold a line.

Its not enough.

_“Petro!”_ They hit a youngling! Kriff, kriff kriff!

"Just keep going!" The Tholothian looks up, and then screams as a bolt slams into her. Her signature wails and fades away with the boy. 

I push Zett back with my shoulder, "get on the damn ship." Wisely, he starts sprinting backwards, catching up with the remaining younglings. The Wookie tries to open the ships, but they've been overridden. Again Zett has to cover as I check it. Kark. This is the Chancellor's override, why...

Who else would the clones listen to?

"Appo listen to me! You know this is wrong. Please!"

He fired again. "Good soldiers follow orders."

"This way!" Someone else calls into the fray. I glance back. Organa. GO, _go,go,go,go!_

A youngling, Bymph, my mind supplies, is struck in the shoulder, the young rodian trying to pull him along is struck as well. Zett grabbed both, sprinting down the hanger bridge. It seemed longer each time I saw it. The blaster fire intensified with the arrival of more ~~boys~~ clones. Blues and reds fire with the sheer purpose of our deaths.

“Aaah!” Zatt, he took my tech lessons when I was in the Temple, every single one. His leg was smoking. “Master Skywalker, help me!” I move forward to get him, but another shot scatters his brains on the floor.

Kid…

“Master!” Zett has is arms full of younglings whilst the Wookie is being isolated by fire. His training sabre blocks a few bolts, but before I stagger to him he’s down.

Head swimming I stagger towards Organa. There were two younglings now. C’mon.

A downpour of blue stars rains upon us. The stars claim another youngling.

_lights widd guide uba bunky dunko_

So bright, light even. Weren’t Jedi meant to welcome the light? Instead here I was trying to cast a shadow over children. They claim another.

_an ignite uta-sha  bones_

Light burns through my leg as I fall backwards.

_an jee  widd tree  nix uba_

Lights lap around me with the cool promise of nothing skirting past the edge of my mind, and growing ever closer, ever bolder as I lay on the floor. Welcomed in by the roaring fire of my stomach wound and throbbing in my limbs.

Oh force…

no

… _no_

I can’t feel Anakin. This soundless hole is where is my brother, was. Always. They wouldn’t kill him, but once they wouldn’t fire on me; why- _I can’t do this alone_.

Appo

He’s standing above me, blaster aimed true.

More blood dribbles down my lips. “Go on then. Do it.”

Unnecessarily he readies the blaster again. Suddenly there’s a burst of blue and screaming. Zett, foolish boy has charged away from safety to lop Appo’s arm off.

Desperately he drags me towards Organa, a temporary bubble of safety from the clones who’s ranks I’ve thinned. Like Krell.

Sluggishly I blink. The dragging stopped.

They strike him right between the ribs.

Another pitch and fade.

Bolts are fired back over my head they take out the three troopers that just slaughtered that poor boy. As new hands drag me along I lock onto the boy’s eyes. Death has already made them vacant. They were my brothers, and they’ve murdered us all.

As the ship scarpers I glance over the edge. The hanger, for all it felt like a dozen uncrossable miles, is so small from here. Even so, it’s littered with bodies.

 

 

I know I’ve blacked out again because the next I wake it’s to more screams but I’m lying in a sterile table with bandages around my stomach. There must be a months’ worth of painkillers in my system.

Yet depressingly there is no one singing in the Force. Perhaps if I strain hard enough I could hear the dark drum. I think I’d rather the silence then the sound of victory.

 I hear the screams again and I roll and gracelessly of my sick-table. I don’t even bother to put on the ruined remains of my tunic, just rush out and unsteady feet my small clothes, lightsabre in a death grip. Because I know that voice. I heard it say I do at her wedding and I’ve heard it give the greatest speeches for democracy. It’s Padmé screaming.

I burst into the room. Labour, not clones. Organa looked frazzled, Padmé relieved. Staggering over I grabbed her hand as another scream tore out. She flails as her melody dips. Dying. My sister is dying. Mutely I hold her hand as she screams and brings two tiny beings into the galaxy. There’s blood on my hand, I can’t tell if its hers or mine or a child’s.

“Ami,” Padmé breathes out, staring longingly at her twins, “take them.”

“What?”

“Raise them, protect them, promise me.” Her strength is fading fast, too fast. Each note is as ragged as her fading breaths. 

“I can’t,” Padmé, don’t you know? I’ve lead children to their deaths just moments ago.

A gurgled whisper, “please.”

“I, Padmé-”

“They need you,” so did they, “please.”

“I promise” I whisper, watching her smile. I would have stayed with her but Organa gently drags me away.

“I have a ship you can take. Small, a few rooms and R-2 and C-3PO are aboard.” At the hatch he gestured for the med-droid to take the babies through. Sighing, he kept talking. “Padmé wants their names to be Luke and Leia, I-“ he hesitates as I meet his eyes. He looks like he has aged a great deal in mere moments. I wonder if I look the same. “We will tell everyone she lost the child. Go, take them and survive.”

I turn and move through the ship. “And Amelia?” Hesitating I glance over to see him framed by the hatchway. “I’m sorry.”

 

R-2 pilots the ship and I numbly sit next to the med droid who moves the children to my arms. Both are fast asleep. I turn to 3PO who stands awkwardly nearby, and voice the question without a real answer.

“What are we going to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ama’lea Skaeewakah, Shimi'z oaughtah Amelia Skywalker, Shmi's daughter  
> Bo bu norce, smadd nires (literal) one the force, small fires (translation) a flame extinguished, now one with the Force  
> kriffing fucking  
> kriffer fucker  
> kriff fuck  
> kark shit  
> lights widd guide uba bunky dunko lights will guide you home  
> an ignite uta-sha bones and ignite your bones   
> an jee widd tree nix uba and I will try to fix you

**Author's Note:**

> So I have written the whole thing in advance and will be posting every Monday.


End file.
